Opposites
by Psychodelic Sexfunk
Summary: Sometimes things play out a little differently. Sometimes people change in ways they would have never guessed. When Max Caulfield returns to Arcadia Bay after five years to reconnect with her best friend, she finds it's not the town she once knew, but a hollow shell, hiding dark secrets in its midst... and no time travel powers to save her. DISCONTINUED
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Yeah, so... I tried writing this story once before, but it just wasn't going where I wanted it to. So this is my second attempt to re-imagine the events of Life Is Strange with a more sensical plot. Just a few things you should note before reading, however.**

 **1\. No rewind powers**

 **2\. No storm**

 **3\. Max is the punk, Chloe is the hipster**

 **4\. TW: Mentions of self harm, suicidal thoughts.**

 **5\. The start will be a bit slow, but trust me when I say shit is going to get VERY real.**

 **I do believe that's everything! I hope you all enjoy, and let's hope this turns out better than my first attempt.**

* * *

 ** _Chapter One_**

* * *

 **2008**

Max Caulfield wanted nothing more than to simply break into tears. She had been standing outside the home of Chloe Price, her best friend in the world, for a good ten minutes, trying to muster up the courage to knock as her parents waited for her in the car. Life wasn't fucking fair. Chloe's father, William had been killed in a car accident three weeks prior, and Chloe was beyond devastated. Where once there had been a blinding light in her eyes, herself an unrelenting force of energy and happiness, now there was only a weak, gray indifference to the outside world. And of course, Max's parents had picked _then_ of all times to tell her they were moving. The familiar surroundings of Arcadia Bay, Oregon, were soon to be replaced by the bustling streets of Seattle. The thirteen-year old girl was crushed. Out of all the times to uproot their entire lives, they had to pick the days following William's funeral, when Chloe needed her best friend more than ever? It was bullshit, and Chloe had taken the news rather poorly.

She had freaked out on Max, tearing into her for abandoning her when she needed her best friend most. Max tried to defend herself, to explain that she had no choice, but Chloe was having none of it. She had said some very hurtful things, and even though Max knew she didn't mean them, that she was grieving and needed something to take her pain out on, they still hurt. Especially coming from her best friend. Max had left the house in tears, and that had been the last she'd seen of Chloe for almost a week. And now here she stood on her doorstep, hoping like all hell that this wouldn't turn out the same way.

Max gave her parents in the car a quick glance, before finally taking a deep breath and managing a few feeble knocks on the front door. For a moment, there was only silence, until the door was answered by Joyce, Chloe's mother. She was dressed in pajamas, eyes red, blonde hair in a disheveled mess. She had obviously been crying, and Max wanted to do the same as soon as she saw her.

"Hey, Max," Joyce mustered a weak smile, while the younger girl found herself unable to stop from rushing forward into a hug. For some, this might have been seen as awkward, but Joyce had been like a second mother to Max for years, and she returned the gesture without hesitation. "I'm sorry about all this, hon," Joyce said after a moment of silence.

"Why are _you_ sorry?" Max questioned as she broke the hug.

"I..." The older woman sighed, putting a hand on Max's shoulder. "I know Chloe said some hurtful things the last time you were here."

"Yeah." Max hung her head.

"She's hurting, Max. We all are."

"I know." The young girl sighed. "But I'm not making it any better by leaving."

"You don't have a choice, hon. I think Chloe knows that, but she's just too angry to make peace with it yet."

Max simply nodded.

"She's upstairs." Joyce motioned.

Max nodded her head once more, and her mind filled with dread as she walked up the single flight of stairs to her best friend's room. She hated this. Chloe meant so much to her, and as unfair as her last words had been to Max, there had been some truth to them. She was leaving, whether she wanted to or not, in her best friend's hour of need. As Max reached the top of the stairs, her hands began to shiver. _Please, dear Dog,_ she thought as she stepped in front of Chloe's door. _Don't let this turn out like last time._ Max bit her lip, and raised her hand to give a few knocks on the door. She was met with only silence. Max sighed, knocking again, this time a bit louder.

"What?" She heard an irritable tone from inside. Not a good sign.

"Chloe?" Max's voice quivered. "It's me."

Moments later, the door opened, and Max was met with the sight of her best friend, much in the same state as Joyce, glaring at her like she was a germ.

"What do you want?" The older girl said in a tired voice.

"Chloe..." Max pleaded. "I don't want to fight with you, I just-"

"Then you shouldn't have wasted your time coming here." Chloe cut her off, turning away from Max and walking back into her room. "I don't even know why you bothered." She continued, sitting down on her bed. "I figured you'd be halfway to fucking Seattle by now."

"Chloe, you know that's not-"

"Apparently, I don't _know_ anything." The older girl continued to seethe. "A few weeks ago, I _knew_ my best friend wouldn't abandon me right after my fucking dad died. But look at where we are now."

Max was on the verge of tears once more. "I don't have a choice, Chloe. My parents-"

"There's always a choice, Caulfield. Looks like you made yours."

Despite Max's best efforts, the tears were rolling. "That's not fair, Chloe." Her voice began to shake.

"Life isn't fair, Max!" Chloe shouted as she stood up. "If it was fair, my dad would still be here." She stepped towards Max, who began to back away. "If it was fair, you wouldn't be abandoning me."

"I'm not abandoning you!" Max tried to defend herself, continuing to back away.

"Bullshit. That's exactly what you're doing." Chloe had finally backed Max out of the bedroom. "Hope you have fun in Seattle, Caulfield. Because I never want to see you again."

The door was promptly slammed shut.

* * *

 **2009**

"I asked you a question, Chloe."

Chloe's teeth gritted together as her stepfather's tone began to grow agitated. Not that it took much to agitate David. The burly, mustachioed man crossed his arms, a scowl adorning his face. To most people, this would have been a rather intimidating sight, but it barely even phased Chloe at this point, they had been having these _family talks_ so often. Not that Chloe considered David family by any stretch of the imagination. He was just some prick who managed to fool Joyce into marrying his sorry ass. He was also the prick who seemed to think he had any say in what Chloe did just because he lived in her mom's house.

"And?" The fifteen-year old shot back, arms crossed defiantly.

"You listen to me, girl..." David growled, waving a finger in Chloe's face. "I have _had it_ with your constant disrespect. Every day your mother and I go to work, bust our asses to provide for _you."_ He poked the outstretched finger into the girl's chest, which she quickly swatted away. "And you repay us by making our lives hell."

"If that makes you so unhappy, why don't you just fucking leave?" Chloe snapped back, and her face was quickly met with the open end of David's palm.

"Do _not_ use that tone with me!"

Chloe stood silent for a moment, fists clenching, the sting from David's hand throbbing in the side of her face. This was not the first time Chloe's stepfather had raised his hand against her. And the girl knew that despite his apologies, despite his promises to Joyce, it most certainly wouldn't be the last. Chloe's breathing began to get heavier as she fought back tears of anger.

"You must think you're a fucking badass, huh?" Chloe snarled, voice cracking.

"All I _think_ is that you need to watch your damn mouth."

"You don't have any say in what I do!" Chloe shot, wiping the tears from her face.

"I pay the bills for the house you live in!" David stepped closer, clearly hoping to silence his stepdaughter, but she was having none of it.

"Well, guess what?" Chloe wasn't backing down. "You're still _not my father!"_

David's expression transitioned from furious to somber in an instant. His stepdaughter's words had apparently cut him pretty deep. _Good. Suck on that, asshole,_ Chloe thought, as she turned to walk away.

"Chloe, where are you going?"

"Away from here!" She shouted back, grabbing a hoodie from a coat rack and bursting out the front door.

It was freezing outside, but Chloe didn't care. A fat chance, but maybe it would give her step-fuhrer less of an incentive to chase after her. Life was complete bullshit. Who the hell did this asshole think he was, marching into her house like a bat out of hell, and acting like he was her father. He had no right. The only man Chloe would ever consider to be a father was gone, something she still hadn't come to terms with. But then, it wasn't as though anyone was trying to help her do so. Joyce couldn't wait to get hitched again, and the bastard who moved in was a paranoid, controlling asshole. Top that off with the fact that she hadn't even spoken to Max in over a year.

Huh. Max...

 _There's a name I haven't heard in a while,_ Chloe thought as she continued to walk, shivering as a gust of wind blew by. _I wonder what she's been up to._ As much as the fifteen-year old wanted to, she just couldn't muster the strength to scowl at the mention of Max's name. As angry as she still was about losing her father, and Max leaving not even a month later, Chloe missed her best friend. She continued to walk absentmindedly, the air only getting colder as the sun continued to sink further into the horizon. Another gust of wind blew by, _forcing_ another shiver from Chloe as her mind finally snapped back to reality. She was at the gates of the old cemetery. Of course, because why would she go anywhere else? Chloe shook her head, emitting a sigh as she stepped on to the cemetery grounds. She now knew exactly where she was going.

The grave had been largely untouched since the funeral. Untouched, but certainly not unvisited, as Chloe spent quite a lot of her time here. One year had passed, but the wounds were still quite fresh in the girl's mind. She sat on the ground across from the headstone, the words carved staring back at her, as though taunting her.

 _WILLIAM JOSEPH PRICE_

 _BELOVED HUSBAND AND FATHER_

 _1972 - 2008_

A sniffle resonated from Chloe's nose as she fought back the tears that were desperately trying to force their way out of her eyes. It wasn't fair. There was no reason her dad should be rotting underground while some paranoid shithead tried to replace him. She sighed, putting her hand against the marble.

"I miss you, daddy."

Although her thoughts were preoccupied with memories of her later father, Chloe's mind began to wander elsewhere. To earlier, outside the cemetery gates. To a certain brunette that she hadn't talked to in some time. It was strange. Why had Max popped into her head now of all times? Maybe... maybe it was Chloe's conscience trying to tell her something...

The fifteen-year old reached into her pocket, and pulled out her phone. Was this a good idea? The last time she had seen Max, it hadn't gone well. She had been angry, and used her best friend as a scapegoat. Opening the contacts on her phone, there was the name where it had always been, just under _Mom._ Chloe's fingers began to shake. There was no telling how this was going to end, if Max would even want to talk to her after what had happened.

Chloe shook her head, turning her phone off. _What's the point?_ She thought to herself, putting the device back in her pocket. _She probably fucking hates me now._

* * *

 **2010**

"Where do you think you're going, Max?"

The harsh tone of her mother's voice bounced against her ears, and Max reluctantly stopped, turning to face her.

"I mean, I assumed I was grounded." She deadpanned. Vanessa, Max's mother clearly did not appreciate her tone.

"Do you not understand how serious this is?" Vanessa's voice began to rise. "You sent that poor girl to the hospital!"

Oh, hell no. Clearly Max's mother was mistaken, because by the tone of her voice, she clearly seemed to think that Max had beaten up one of her classmates for shits and giggles. Nothing could be further from the truth. That _poor girl,_ along with several others,had tormented Max since the moment she began attending school here in Seattle. Every day for the past two years, the abuse from her peers had been non-stop, and today, Max had finally snapped.

"Poor girl? Are you kidding me?" Max retorted to her mother. "That bitch has been making my life hell for two years!"

Vanessa's eyes widened. Max had done it now. "Don't you _dare_ use that language at me!" The older woman motioned for Max to follow her as she began to walk back into their living room. Max reluctantly complied, rolling her eyes, preparing herself for yet another lecture. This seemed to be happening more and more frequently as of late, as Max and public high school clearly did get along. The fifteen-year old sighed, stepping back into the room, hands in her pockets, wanting nothing more than for this to be over.

Max's mother pinched the bridge of her nose, taking a deep breath. "Do you..." She stopped, giving her head a quick shake. "Do you even know how embarrassing it is to have to leave work because my daughter got suspended from school?"

Max grumbled. "Well, I'm sorry it's so inconvenient for you." She shot back, crossing her arms. "She deserved it, though."

"Max, _what_ could that girl have done to deserve what you did to her?"

"I'll show you." was Max's only response as she made a beeline across the room for her backpack. After a moment or two of rummaging, she pulled out the culmination of two years of torment at the hands of her peers, the one final act that had finally sent her over the edge. The old polaroid camera that Max had received as a birthday gift from her late grandfather almost ten years ago, which she had affectionately christened _Ol' Reliable,_ had been shattered. Broken into pieces because some bitch at school thought it would be funny. One thing was sure, she didn't find it terribly funny now.

"I was minding my own business," Max growled as the image of her tormentor's face popped into her head. "Sitting _alone_ at lunch, and she decided it would be hilarious to take my camera." Her free hand began clenching and unclenching as the young girl's anger was re-ignited. "I told her to give it back, but instead..." Max shook her head, trying to steady her breathing. "Instead she snapped a picture of me, and then... she..." The young girl was nearly in tears of rage just thinking about what had happened today. "She held it up in the air... and dropped it. Landed on the concrete, and now it's in fucking pieces."

Vanessa sighed, the expression on her face lightening. _Didn't see that coming,_ Max thought to herself as her mother rested her face in her palm.

"Max, I'm sorry about your camera." The older woman started. "But this is _not_ the way to deal with your problems."

"Then what is?" Max shot back. "I mean, the teachers obviously don't care, otherwise they would've stepped in before it happened."

"That still doesn't mean you can go around beating up anyone who makes you angry."

"Yeah, well," Max half-smirked as she looked back at the shattered remains of Ol' Reliable. "I'm pretty sure everyone there will think twice before giving me shit now."

"That's not the point!" Vanessa began to raise her voice. "Good Lord, Max, you are so much smarter than this."

"What do you want from me?" The fifteen-year old shouted. "You _and_ dad have been telling me I needed to start standing up for myself anyway!" She threw up her hands in frustration. "So now I finally do that, and all I get is a lecture."

"This isn't what we meant!" Max's mother continued to get louder. "You can't solve your problems with violence, Max. If you were an adult, you'd have been _charged_ for this."

"Oh, whatever." Max had finally enough. Her mother simply refused to grasp the reality of the situation. "You and dad can put whatever spin on it you want, but that bitch deserved what she got." She began to leave, heading straight down the hall to her bedroom.

"I am _done_ letting people push me around."

* * *

 **2011**

Chloe sat outside, next to the fountain on Blackwell Academy's main campus. Joyce would be here to soon to pick her up from school, not that Chloe was incapable of walking, but merely because her mother insisted. The now-seventeen-year old didn't really care. Lately the days had seemed to just blend together, no difference from one to the next other than two days out of the week she didn't have to drag her bony, pale ass out of bed to go waste seven hours in public school. Lately, Chloe really didn't care for the idea of being alive. Six months ago, Chloe had stopped wearing contacts because proper eyesight just wasn't worth the effort. Four months ago, she had begun to exclusively wear long sleeve shirts so that no one would ask questions about the marks on her arms. A few weeks ago, she had begun skipping meals. Eating, keeping herself nourished had no value to her whatsoever. Chloe didn't explicitly _want_ to die, but if she didn't wake up tomorrow morning, if she were to simply vanish, cease to be, she honestly wouldn't have minded.

Life was cruel. It had taken away two of the most important people in her life with no remorse. The only difference was that Chloe had pushed one of them away herself. God, she was such an idiot. She reached into her pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. One of the few sources of comfort she had lately was nicotine. As Chloe inhaled the smoke, her mind began to drift back to the one subject that had occupied her mind for what seemed like forever...

Death.

Chloe had come quite close to ending her own life a number of times over the past year. Once with a few too many Tylenol, another with one of David's guns. Even more recently, just general reckless driving. In the end, she had always chickened out, assuming that someday she'd be able to work up the courage to finally go through with it. It wouldn't be as though the world would lose anything of value. Joyce would most certainly be better off without her fuck up of a daughter. David might get frustrated because he'd have no one to hound or spy on, but Chloe didn't really care what happened to him. And she didn't even have any friends that would miss her. Her only real friend hadn't talked to her in _three years,_ and Chloe couldn't really blame her. She had been such a bitch towards Max the last time they'd seen one another. She had been hurting, was _still_ hurting, but Max hadn't deserved that. And now she was gone, leaving Chloe no opportunity to apologize, to make things right.

The seventeen-year old's train of thought was violently derailed as the sharp, unwelcome sensation of freezing water made itself known all across her midsection. Chloe's mouth hung agape, eyes shut tight as she stood up, and the sound of annoyingly high-pitched laughter bounced against her eardrums. She turned around, only to be greeted by the abhorrent sight of Victoria Chase, one of Blackwell's resident elites and her cronies, Chloe couldn't remember their names, laughing their rich, snobby asses off, a now empty cooler lying beside their feet.

"Sorry, Price." Victoria continued to laugh. "You've been wearing the same thing for a week now. Thought you might need some help washing it."

One of her henchwomen made another snarky comment, which caused another wave of laughter to surge. Chloe didn't care. This was the absolute last thing she needed right now.

"Wh- What..." Chloe stammered, beginning to shiver from the freezing cold. "What the fuck is your problem?"

The Queen Bitch, as the rest of the school knew her, picked up on Chloe's small sign of weakness. "Aw, what's wrong, hippie?" She mocked as Chloe's shivering began to get worse. "You gonna cry now?"

Bursting into tears wasn't entirely out of the question, Chloe had to admit. But all that would do was give Chase and her slaves ammunition to use against her.

"Hey!"

An unknown voice made itself known, and before Chloe knew it, there was someone stepping between her and Victoria. She couldn't see their face, but it was obviously a girl judging from the tone of her voice, a long, blonde mane covering most of her back as the stranger put her hands on her hips. Victoria's face immediately soured.

"Oh, great. It's you." She sneered at the girl.

"For fuck's sake, Chase. Don't you have anything better to do than pick on people?"

"This doesn't concern you, miss wannabe-model." The Queen Bee crossed her arms.

"It does now." The stranger shot back, hands balling into fists.

Chloe was awestruck. Someone was actually sticking up for her. This was quite possibly the last thing she would have expected, as _nobody_ ever stood up to Victoria and her posse, or anyone in the Vortex Club for that matter.

"If I were you, I'd start minding my own business." Victoria growled at the girl.

"Or what?" She stepped closer to the bully and her cronies. "Come on, bitch. Swing. I dare you."

The girl's outburst of confidence, her refusal to put up with Victoria's shit, was clearly not something the elite and her henchwomen were used to. Victoria simply exchanged looks with her cronies, before looking back to this strange girl as though she were completely insane, and began to back away slowly. Chloe wasn't quite sure how to comprehend what had just happened. _No one_ had ever had the courage to even call Victoria Chase out on her bullying, much less get in her face and practically beg for a fight. With the Queen Bee and her servants gone, the strange girl turned back to Chloe.

"You alright?"

"Uh... yeah." Chloe said without much enthusiasm. "I guess."

"God, I don't know what the fuck that girl's problem is."

"Nobody does."

It was now that Chloe was getting a good look at this girl, and she very much liked what she saw. _Hot damn,_ she thought to herself, _she's fucking beautiful._ And she was, the girl's lightly tanned skin, combined with the impeccable job she'd done with her makeup, and the slightly torn red flannel and skinny jeans that she fit out perfectly. Chloe shook her head, she didn't want this girl to get creeped out by her ogling.

"Are..." Chloe stammered. "Have we met?"

"I don't think so. It's only my second day here." The girl replied, before letting a slight smirk adorn her face. "My name's Rachel."

"Chloe."

* * *

 **2012**

Max's heart was racing as she slowly turned her key. At this point, she was no stranger to sneaking into her house in the small hours of the morning, but then, she was also no stranger to getting caught by her parents, and the last thing she needed right now was a lecture. Her head was throbbing, and the shitty bandage job Kristen had done earlier wasn't really holding up. All Max wanted to do was patch herself up, go to bed, and thank whatever divine being was actually in charge of the universe that tomorrow was a Saturday. The seventeen-year old slowly opened her front door, but her stomach sank when she was greeted by the sight of her father, Ryan, sitting in his cozy chair, a book in his hand being read by lamplight. _Well, fuck._

Ryan didn't even look up from his book. "About time you got home. If you weren't back by sunrise, I would've had to call the police."

Max didn't even bother trying to make up an excuse, she just sighed and closed the door. She had been in this situation plenty of times before, and knew that giving anything except short _yes_ and _no_ answers would only make things worse.

At last her father looked up from his book, and his eyes widened as he got a look at his daughter's face. The slightly swollen lower lip, dried blood underneath her nose, and a haphazardly placed bandage just under her left eye that looked as though it was about to fall off. Max had been in another fight.

"Dear God," Ryan gasped, his expression turning from anger to concern. "What happened to you?"

Max sighed, hanging her head, but her father cut her off before she could answer him.

"Nevermind." He said, rising from his chair. "Go in the kitchen. I'll be there in a second."

Max complied, making her way into the kitchen while Ryan headed down the hallway to the bathroom. In truth, Max felt bad that her father had to see her like this, that he had to patch her up at three in the morning when he should be fast asleep next to his wife. Max flipped the kitchen light on, emitting another sigh as she leaned back against the counter top, shaking her head. Tonight had sucked, but it could've been worse. Mom could've caught her instead. At least whenever it was Dad he didn't scream and wake up half the neighborhood. Still, it was less pleasant than the few times she had actually managed to sneak in without getting caught.

Max's internal monologue was interrupted as Ryan stepped into the kitchen with a bottle of peroxide, a bag of cotton balls, and a box of band-aids bundled in his fists. He set the bandages on the counter top, and began pouring a small amount of peroxide onto a cotton ball, before turning back to Max.

"So what happened?" Ryan asked quietly, carefully removing the bandage from underneath Max's eye.

The seventeen-year old sighed. "I went to Kristen's after school to work on our project, like I said."

"Max..."

"I did!" Max protested. For once, she was actually telling the truth. Ryan placed the peroxide-filled cotton ball onto the cut below her eye, causing her to hiss from the pain, clenching her hands into fists. "Fuck, that stings!"

"You still haven't answered my question."

"We... kind of finished. And she decided we needed to celebrate by... uh..."

"By what?" Max's father continued to drill her.

"We went to a party."

"God, Max..." Ryan almost whispered as he removed the cotton ball.

"It wasn't _that_ kind of party." Max rolled her eyes as her arms crossed. "At least... I thought it wasn't."

Her father simply shook his head as he reached inside the box. Max felt the disappointment being cast on her, and even though she was used to this kind of situation with her parents, it still made her feel like an asshole.

"Look, I promise I wasn't drinking." She said, hoping to ease some of her father's discomfort. "You can even smell my breath if you want."

"I believe you, Max." Ryan said quietly as he pulled a bandage out of its wrapper. "So how did... _this_ happen?"

Max grumbled. "I went to the bathroom, when I came back... I caught some asshole trying to spike my drink."

"You just told me you weren't drinking!"

"It was _Pepsi."_ She defended herself. "That's how I knew it was mine. Only non-alcoholic beverage in sight."

"So what then?" Ryan gently placed the bandage on Max's cut, causing her to wince.

"I... kicked him in the balls." Max said with a slight chuckle.

"Oh, sweet Jesus."

"Then a couple of his friends jumped me."

"A couple of _guys_ jumped you?!" Ryan's voice, as well as his anger, began to rise.

"Yep." Max shook her head. "Thankfully, Fernando was there too. Him and a few other guys jumped _them,_ and me and Kristen hauled ass out of there."

Max's father was speechless, mostly at how nonchalantly his daughter had described the process of almost being drugged at a party, then _assaulted_ by complete strangers. The seventeen-year old could tell that her father had been worried, and now looked like he was about to burst into tears. Max felt like a complete asshole for putting him through this, and was taken off-guard when Ryan stepped forward and forced her into a hug. Max heard a sniffle escape her father's nose as she nervously returned the embrace, and now she _really_ felt like shit.

"Dad?"

"I'm..." Ryan's voice was trembling. "I'm just glad you're okay, Max."

 _Fuck._ He just had to keep making her feel even worse about herself. Yeah, Max knew she was a delinquent, that she didn't keep the best company or make the smartest decisions, but it still hit her right in the core whenever her antics caused her father to break into tears. Max buried her head into her father's chest, hoping to squeeze away some of the man's anguish.

"Fuck..." She groaned. "I'm sorry, dad."

"For what?"

It was Max's turn to fight back tears. The guilt of the stress, the worry, the mental anguish she had put her parents through ever since they came to this fucking city, had come barreling full force to the front of her mind. The fights, the suspensions from school, the pot, the piercings, the tattoos, the one time she had actually been _arrested._ And time after time, her parents had bailed her out, taken the brunt of her stupid mistakes. And she hated that. She hated what she had put them through.

"I..." Max stammered, holding tighter to her father. "I'm not a good daughter."

Ryan immediately pulled away, putting both his hands on Max's shoulders. "Don't say that." He wiped away at his eyes. "You might make me want to tear my hair out sometimes," He chuckled slightly. "But I wouldn't trade you for anything. Neither would your mom."

"Yeah." The seventeen-year old sighed. "I know I suck at showing it, but I love you guys."

"And we love you, too." Ryan said quietly as he took a few steps away from Max. "But we worry about you. _So_ much."

"I know." And here came the lecture, right on time. Max knew she deserved it, but that didn't make it any more pleasant.

"I mean, Jesus, Max. How many times has this happened since we moved here?" Her father's voice was kept low, so as not to wake Vanessa, but Max knew he meant business. "You stumble in here after midnight, after not telling me or your mother where you're going, and then get defensive when we grill you."

Max simply nodded.

"You are _such_ a smart girl, Max. Definitely smarter than to be making some of the decisions you do." Ryan crossed his arms. "I just... you need to start thinking about your future instead of getting trashed with your friends."

"Hey, my GPA proves I can do both." Max chuckled slightly. Her father was less than amused. "Besides, I've already started applying for colleges. You know, like you and mom have been pestering me about for the past year?" She smirked.

"Oh, really?" Ryan didn't sound convinced. "Where, exactly?"

"Washington State, for one. A few places in Spokane, Tacoma." Max paused, trying to remember every last place so her father would be satisfied. "Oh yeah, I even applied to Blackwell for shits and giggles."

"Blackwell?" Ryan suddenly seemed more interested in what his daughter had to say. "Isn't that the private school back in Arcadia?"

"Yeah." Max nodded. "They have a really good photography program, and the guy who teaches there was a pretty big deal back in the 90's. Why?"

Max's father held up a hand, leaving the kitchen, only to return a moment later with an unopened envelope in his palms. "This came in the mail for you today." He handed Max the letter.

Max eyed the letter. There was no mistaking the print on the envelope, this letter was from Blackwell Academy in Arcadia Bay, Oregon. Max wasted no time ripping the envelope open, her heart rate skyrocketing, desperate to know the contents inside. The girl's mouth dropped open as she read the letter aloud.

"Miss Maxine Caulfield," She began. "We at Blackwell Academy are delighted to inform you that you have been accepted as part of our Fall 2013 slash Spring 2014 year." Max's hands began to shake. This was happening. "We very much look forward to having you as part of our student body. If you have any concerns, please do not hesitate to contact our administrative office. Sincerely, Principal Ray Wells."

Max was speechless. It was really happening. Starting next year, she would be part of one of the most prestigious art programs in the country. And even more than that...

And even more than that, Max's mind began to point to someone else. A certain blonde girl that she hadn't spoken with in five years.

Chloe...


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter Two**_

* * *

 **April 2013**

 _"Hey, this is RA. Can't pick up my phone right now, so do your thing when you hear the beep."_

Beep.

"Rachel, this isn't fucking funny!" Chloe shouted into her phone as she continued to pace back and forth in her bedroom. "You can't just disappear and not expect people to blow your phone up." She began to shake, her nerves completely shot. Rachel Amber hadn't been seen in weeks. Not by Chloe, not by any of the students at Blackwell, not even by David, who Chloe knew for a fact had been spying on her. "Look, I'm just... I'm worried about you." The nineteen-year old continued, her voice beginning to quiver. "My mom's worried, I know your friends at Blackwell are worried." She was underselling it. Chloe wasn't just worried, she was terrified. "Please, Rach... just call me... call _someone_ and let us know you're alright."

Finally pressing the _end call_ button on her phone, Chloe sat down on her bed, curling up into a ball. This wasn't happening, it just couldn't. Rachel was far too smart than to get herself into any real danger. And yet, the fear and uncertainty that plagued Chloe's brain suggested otherwise. She couldn't bear the thought of what could have possibly happened. Rachel had been Chloe's rock, her salvation for nearly two years. She had helped Chloe to stop harming herself, talked her out of the idea of ending her life. Rachel had truly cared when it seemed like nobody else had. Chloe couldn't lose her now, not after all she'd been through.

The girl's mind wandered, haunted by the possibilities of what could have happened to her angel, she didn't even notice as she subconsciously began to roll up her sleeves. It wasn't until she found herself reaching underneath her bed that she realized exactly what she was doing. Chloe was horrified. There was her arm, marks and scars lining the skin, a reminder of every time she'd ever cut, burned, or hurt herself. And in her other hand, a fucking razor blade. All it had taken was a few weeks without Rachel, and Chloe was already sinking back into her self-destructive ways. The tears began to flow as Chloe tossed the blade across the room.

 _No,_ she thought, unwilling to accept what she had almost done. _Never again._

What the fuck was wrong with her? Was she really so pathetic that she'd go back to hurting herself as soon as her precious Rachel wasn't around? But then, how could she not? Rachel Amber had meant... _so_ much to her. She had gotten Chloe to open up in a way that she'd only ever done with Max. She had listened to Chloe's suicidal ramblings, about how she didn't want to be alive any longer. Rachel had been there at her absolute lowest point, and just as it seemed Chloe may have had something to live for after all, Rachel vanished without a trace.

And here was Chloe, sitting alone in her room, stewing in her own misery and self-pity like she had been for five years. Her teeth began to grit as she wiped away her tears. _No,_ she thought. Rachel was right. She was better than this. She wasn't about to fall back down that hole again. Chloe's hands began to ball into fists, her sorrow being replaced by anger. Not anger towards Rachel for disappearing, not towards David, or Joyce, or anyone else that Chloe had blamed her problems on. She was angry at herself. She had made a promise to Rachel that she would never harm herself again, and had almost broken that promise at the first sign of her absence. Her friend deserved better than that.

Chloe stood up from her bed and walked over to the desk against her bedroom wall, flipping open her laptop. A short half hour of work later, a blank document on her computer had turned into a professional-looking missing person poster. A picture of Rachel graced the center, with Chloe's phone number, as well as the Arcadia Bay Police Department's office number below. All that remained was to print out a metric shit ton of these and post them all over town. Chloe reached across her desk for her lighter and cigarettes. Flicking the lighter, the smoke filling her lungs, Chloe leaned back in her computer chair, taking a glance out the window.

 _I'm gonna find you, Rach. I promise..._

* * *

 **August 2013**

Blackwell Academy...

To be perfectly honest, it was kind of a disappointment. Not that Max was about to let her parents know that, but this was the school she had dreamed about ever since she was a child, having first discovered her passion for photography. She expected... more. It just looked like a bland, generic high school, the only difference was the total lack of stereotypical high school students littering the campus. _Ugh,_ she thought. _I've been dropped into the most cliche teen movie ever._ But then, Max knew she shouldn't judge the place at face value. Public school in Seattle had seemed to be very much the same way on the surface, you just had to know where to look for your fun.

Fun, it so happened, was something Max was certainly _not_ having right now.

"Just flip it a little more!" Ryan shouted from the hall.

"It won't go any further!" Max retorted.

Moving a couch into a girls' dorm was never destined to be an enjoyable task. Especially since there had been nowhere near the dorms to park, which had forced Max and her parents to carry the piece of furniture all the way across the main campus, and then up two flights of stairs just to get it into her room. Which just so happened to be at the end of her hallway. The universe was just royally screwing with her today.

Ryan grunted, giving one final shove and taking Max a bit by surprise, as they finally forced the leather-bound monstrosity through the narrow doorway. The couch dropped to the floor, emitting a deafening thud as Max wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead. Moving sucked. It would only suck even more when she had to pack all her shit right back up at the end of the school year to go back to Seattle.

"You know," She said between heavy breaths. "I think I'm just gonna leave this here for the next girl."

"I wouldn't mind that at all." Her father said with a laugh as he pushed the couch up against a wall.

"And now to repeat the process another six or seven times." Max half-chuckled, half-groaned.

"Not quite." Came Vanessa's voice as she stepped through the doorway, three rolling suitcases in tow. "Not all of us are suited for heavy lifting."

"Thank you, honey." Ryan replied sarcastically.

Max's mother plopped the suitcases on top of her bed, one of the few things actually provided by the school. And that was that. The long, grueling process of moving into her dorm was complete. Now if only the room didn't look so damn bland. Max smirked as she took a look around. It wouldn't be this way for long. Soon she'd have a photo wall set up, maybe a few posters here and there, nothing too spectacular.

"Well," She began as the three of them stepped outside into the hallway. "I, um... I guess that's it, then."

"Don't sound _too_ excited to get rid of us." Ryan said with a smirk.

Max let out a small chuckle, despite herself. She knew, and she knew her parents knew, that she was going to miss them. That she was nervous about being away from her family for the first time in... well, ever. And more than anything, she was scared shitless about the possibility of seeing Chloe again after five years. The list of things that could go wrong were endless. What if her best friend was still angry with her? It had been _five years,_ surely she had calmed down by now. Surely Chloe would be happy to see her again. And if not... if not, she could at least make the effort to reconcile. If the past couldn't simply be forgotten, she could at least try to move forward.

Max's thoughts were interrupted as her father pulled her into a hug. She returned the embrace without hesitation as her mother joined in.

"We love you, honey." Vanessa said quietly. "And we're so proud of you."

"I love you guys, too." Max returned as they broke the slightly awkward family hug. Her words were sweet, but Max could tell by her mother's face that she had something else to say. "Mom?" She inquired.

"Just..." Her mother sighed. "Just promise us you'll stay out of trouble, Max. Please."

Max rolled her eyes, but she couldn't fault her mother's concern. She didn't have the best track record when it came to making good decisions, and more often than not that had led to far more than her fair share of trouble, both at school, at home, and occasionally with the law. She had been the stereotypical rebellious hellchild for years, much to her parents' dismay. But going to Blackwell, returning to Arcadia Bay, was a chance for her to start over. To not have the stigma of a reckless punk hanging over her head.

"I promise." Max said quietly. Her parents nodded.

"Well, in that case," Ryan chimed in, putting a hand on his wife's shoulder. "We should probably get back on the road. Long drive back to Seattle."

...

A few hours passed. Max had spent the majority of her time unpacking, only stepping out of her room to use the bathroom. The school year didn't officially start for another few days, so she hadn't run into any Blackwell students, which was probably for the best. Despite Max's promise to her parents, trouble had a funny way of finding her despite her best attempts to stay away from it. She pulled out her phone, the time reading 4:42 p.m. Just a bit over fifteen minutes before it would be time for the school's open house, to wander the main campus, meet her teachers for the semester, hopefully make a few friends. She was nervous, it was true. She may have grown up in Arcadia Bay, but Seattle had become her home. She was the new girl again, just as much as she had been after she had left five years ago.

Max stepped in front of the mirror that hung next to her bedroom door, taking an opportunity to look herself over. God, she had changed so much since she had left the town of Arcadia Bay five years ago. The shy, quirky, quiet little girl had turned into a loudmouthed, overly confident punk with an explosive temper. Max's gaze turned to her reflection. Her septum was pierced, easily hidden by flipping the metal into her nostrils. Her normally brunette chin-length hair had been dyed completely pink a few weeks prior, attributed to _needing a change._ She was clad in a black _Blink-182_ tank top, a pair of skinny jeans, and a set of leather bound combat boots, perfectly cementing the _don't fuck with me_ look she was going for.

Max groaned. Who was she kidding? The pink hair, the piercings, the clothes weren't going to make anyone think twice about trying to fuck with her. She may have had a reputation in Seattle for being something of a badass, but Seattle was over a hundred miles away. More importantly, this wasn't the Arcadia Bay she'd grown up in. Max didn't know anyone here, save for Chloe, whom she wasn't even sure how to reach out to. Max could only bet that by the end of the day, she'd be making enemies. And right after she had promised her parents that she would behave herself here.

Max looked back at her phone once more, the time now reading 4:47 p.m. _Well, Caulfield,_ she thought to herself as she opened her door, stepping out into the hallway, _it's now or never._

As the pinknette emerged from her cocoon, the first thing she noticed were other voices. It seemed some of her dorm mates had finally arrived, which only added to the nervous tension in Max's gut. As much as she pretended not to give a fuck what others thought, Max was genuinely concerned what the students of Blackwell would think of her. She began to walk down, the hallway, pulling out her phone one last time, if nothing else but to have an excuse as to why she was being an unsociable twat, when her attention was violently stolen by the force of another person slamming into her.

The impact knocked Max to the floor, and she began to grit her teeth. Not even a day, and people were already being assholes.

"Oh, shit!" Came the voice from above. Max looked up to see a tall blonde girl in a cheerleader's uniform looking down at her, eyes wide with concern. "I'm so sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going!" The girl apologized, reaching out a hand to help the punk up. Okay, so maybe not everyone was an asshole. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Max replied as she took the girl's hand.

The girl helped Max to her feet, and she proceeded to dust herself off as she looked over her apologetic assailant. The girl was much taller than Max, at least a foot from where she was looking. She had dark blonde hair pulled back into a bun, and the cheerleader's uniform she was clad in could have left a little more to the imagination. Not that Max minded too terribly much, she had acquired an appreciation for both sides of the spectrum in Seattle.

"I'm really sorry." The girl continued to apologize as the pinknette steadied herself.

"You're fine." Max reassured her. "Shit happens."

"Yeah." The cheerleader responded, and a moment of silence followed before she spoke again. "Hey, are you new here?"

"Yep." Max replied with a half-smile. "Just got here a few hours ago."

The taller girl extended a hand, taking the punk a bit by surprise with her display of kindness. "I'm Dana. Nice to meet you."

"Max."

"I guess you're headed to orientation, right?" Dana said as they broke the handshake.

"Uh... yeah." Max replied as her hand instinctively went to the back of her neck. All the fights, all the displays of bravado in Seattle, and she still clammed up whenever she met new people. She hated it, but at least this one was trying to be nice.

"Tell you what." Dana said, a light beginning to shine in her eyes. "Give me a few minutes to change out of my uniform, and I'll show you around."

"Are you sure?" The pinknette replied nervously. "Don't you have to go, too?"

"This is my fourth year here." The tall blonde said with a slight laugh. "I already know everyone, teachers included. Besides," Her kind smile began to turn to a smirk. "It's the least I can do for knocking you on your ass."

* * *

 **Earlier that day...**

Chloe leaned up against the old shack on the edge of the beach, taking another drag off her cigarette as the wind continued to blow through her hair, sand shuffling beneath her feet. Four months ago, Rachel Amber, her best friend, her rock, had disappeared without a trace. Four months ago, Chloe had been hell bent on finding her, no matter where she had gone to. She had plastered missing person posters across every inch of Arcadia Bay with Rachel's face on them, but didn't have jack shit to show for her effort. She had spent more sleepless nights than she could count on her computer, looking for any trace of her friend, only to come up empty handed every time. Chloe was tired. She was tired of people she loved leaving her. She was tired of life constantly knocking her down at every opportunity. She was tired of her family, tired of Arcadia Bay. She couldn't help but think that it would be better if she just disappeared, too. Leave in the middle of the night without a word, go try to make her way somewhere else.

Chloe took another drag as she stared out into the ocean. Despite how much she wanted to, she couldn't find it in herself to cry again. She had spent so much time doing that since Rachel vanished, doing it again would only be a waste of time. The nineteen year old exhaled, letting the smoke escape her mouth.

She didn't want to assume the worst. She couldn't. Rachel was far too smart to let something like that happen to her. But Chloe couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something very bad had happened to her best friend.

"Well, well," A familiar, unwelcome voice made itself known a few feet away. "I thought I recognized that rust bucket up the road."

Chloe jumped at the sound, and instinctively began to back away as the man began to chuckle. This was the last thing she needed right now. "W-what..." She stammered, her apprehension showing through her voice. "What do you want, Frank?" She looked down, afraid to meet the eyes of the man who she happened to owe a great deal of money.

"What?" Frank said nonchalantly as he continued to step towards Chloe. "A guy can't check up on old friends?"

"We're not friends." Chloe replied with the slightest hint of malice in her voice.

"We're not, huh?" Frank's voice shifted, his tone becoming much more serious, sending a shiver down Chloe's spine. "And yet I was nice enough to pay to have that metal death trap of yours fixed up."

He continued to step closer to Chloe, who in turned backed further and further away, until she had finally been backed up against the wall of the old shack. She was fully at Frank's mercy now.

"Speaking of which," the man continued, grabbing Chloe's jaw and forcing her to look him in the eyes. "Where's my money?"

Chloe was terrified. She had thought Frank wouldn't try to hurt her over their debt, but clearly she had been mistaken. The man's grip on her face began to tighten as he awaited his answer, and the girl's mind scrambled to tell him something, _anything_ that would get him to leave her alone.

"I..." she stuttered again, the fear becoming quite prevalent on her face. "I'm... I'm working on it, okay?"

"You're working on it." Frank shook his head, finally releasing his grip on Chloe's face. "Of course you are." The nineteen year old's legs buckled from underneath her, and she fell to the ground as her assailant finally let go. "You're lucky I'm a patient man, Chloe." He turned away from her, beginning to walk away.

"But even my patience has its limits." Frank turned back to her one last time, and the look on his face made Chloe's blood run cold. "You'd better have my money soon."


	3. Chapter 3

_**Chapter Three**_

* * *

Max's heart felt as though it was going to burst from her chest. Merely a few feet away from her stood Mark Jefferson, Blackwell Academy's photography teacher, and more importantly, a man who had once been a massive icon in the photographic world. At first, Max hadn't thought much of it. All it had meant to her was that she would actually have a photography teacher who knew what the fuck they were talking about for once. But as she had stepped through the doorway to his classroom, the gravity of the situation truly began to hit her. This guy was a big fucking deal. He had once been a man to whom all other photographers aspired to be, and would likely sniff out an amateur from miles away. And that was what truly frightened Max. For years, she had worried about the quality of her work, her skill as a photographer. Her parents had praised her, but she was their daughter, they didn't count. Her friends had praised her, but they didn't know the first thing about photography, so they didn't count, either.

Max shook her head, briefly allowing her nerves to get the better of her before turning around to run out of the room and back to her dorm, only to be stopped in the doorway by Dana, the cheerleader's arms crossed with a knowing smirk adorning her face.

"And just where do you think you're going?" The taller girl said with a slight laugh.

"I..." The pinknette stuttered. "I forgot something in my room."

"Uh huh." Dana shook her head and put a hand on Max's shoulder. "Chill, Max. Jefferson's a cool dude."

Max sighed. Her new friend was far too good at reading people for her liking. "I'm sure he is, but-"

"No buts." Dana had heard enough, taking both hands to spin Max around and give her a shove in Jefferson's direction.

The punk reluctantly stepped toward her teacher, who had just broken a handshake with what looked to be another student. Jefferson was an older man, clearly in his early forties, hair spiked up in the front, a large pair of glasses adorning his eyes, and a goatee strapping his chin, clad in a suit and tie. In short, he looked like a walking stereotype, one of those _I'm old but I'm still hip_ teachers who tried way too hard to be young again. But Max knew better. This was, after all, _the_ Mark Jefferson, former biggest star in the world, in the world of photography at least. Anything he said or suggested was absolutely to be taken at face value. Or maybe he wanted his students to challenge him? The kind of man who saw skepticism as initiative?

 _Ugh,_ Max thought. _Stop worrying yourself to death. Just walk up and introduce yourself._

The pinknette finally stepped closer to the older man, just in time for him to turn and look straight at her. There was something oddly welcoming about Jefferson's demeanor, and allowed Max to finally relax just a bit. She reached out her hand to her teacher, finally breaking the brief silence.

"Mr... Jefferson, right?" She said as the teacher accepted her handshake.

"Indeed." He said, a slight smirk adorning his face. "Are you new here? I don't believe I've had you in any of my classes before."

"Uh... no." Max hated being so formal, but it was good to make a first impression. "I'm only at Blackwell for my senior year."

"Ah, I see." Jefferson chuckled softly as he broke the handshake. "I was wondering who the _one year wonder_ was going to be this term."

"Uh..." The girl stuttered. "I'm sorry, what?"

"You're far from the first person to come to Blackwell for the photography program." The older man explained, his expression becoming a bit more serious as he moved his hands behind his back. "I've had quite a few students throughout the years only enroll for one year, hoping to kickstart a career in photography."

Max nodded, trying to ignore the small bead of sweat that had begun to run down the back of her neck. So he really had seen plenty of amateurs, and would be able to sniff one out from a mile away. "Have..." she began, trying to choose her words carefully. "Have any of them ever actually succeeded?"

Jefferson laughed once more, a small gesture that did much to calm Max's rising inner tension. "A few of them have, actually." He said with a look of something pride on his face. "I'm sorry, in all the reminiscing, I don't believe I caught your name."

"Oh, um, Max... sir." The punk smiled nervously. "Max Caulfield." _Ugh,_ she thought. _Why do I still act like an awkward thirteen year old around new people?_

"Sir?" Jefferson let out a small chuckle. "No need for that level of formality, Max." The older man smirked slightly as he began to cross his arms, giving off a very comforting vibe to Max, who smiled in return.

"Good to know, I guess." She laughed a bit nervously, rubbing the back of her head. "I... guess I'll see you Monday then?" _Oh God, Max, what are you doing?_ She immediately regretted her choice of words, they sounded so damn _flirtatious._

Jefferson simply nodded his head. "I look forward to it."

At long last, the dreaded obligatory social interaction was finished, as Max wasted no time turning right around and heading back to Dana, who was leaning back against the door frame, arms crossed, with a devious smirk adorning her face. "Aww, come on, Max," the taller girl teased in a playful tone. "Don't tell me the whole _badass punk chick_ look is just an act."

Max couldn't help but let out a quiet laugh of her own. "Depends on whether or not you're on my good side, I guess."

Dana chuckled once more. "Well, I'm very glad I'm on your good side, then." She turned around and began to walk out the door, motioning for Max to follow her, to which the pinknette complied. "So," The cheerleader continued as she stopped outside the doorway, turning to face Max. The punk's stomach slowly began to tighten as she took sight of the devilish grin that had now forced its way onto Dana's face. "Now that the boring stuff is out of the way, it's time to introduce you to the _important_ people."

"Uh..." Max did not like where this was going. "What exactly do you mean by _important?"_

Dana raised an eyebrow. "You're joking, right?" Her question was met with only silence and a shrug. "You're not joking... okay, um... how do I put this?" She took a glance down the hall to make sure there were no interlopers eavesdropping on their conversation. "Well, we have a _lot_ of parties here." Dana continued, in a more hushed tone so as not to incriminate herself to more than one person. "Mainly because there's pretty much nothing else to do in this town. And parties need... um... _supplies?"_

"Oh, God." Max rested her face in her palm. "You were about to introduce me to a drug dealer, weren't you?"

"Hey, not so loud." Dana put a finger to her lips as she took another look around. "But... yeah. This guy named Frank gets stuff for most of the students here. Usually makes for a good time."

"I'll have to pass." Max said nervously. "I mean, I can have a few beers, maybe smoke a little, but it sounds like you guys are into... _heavier_ stuff than that."

"Hey, that's totally fine." Dana put her hands up and backed away slightly. "Just... please don't rat us out, okay?"

And with that, Max's knowing smirk returned once more. "My lips are sealed."

This forced another smile from the taller girl, but the relatively sweet and touching moment was forcefully interrupted as Max felt something slam carelessly into her side. Some thoughtless bitch had bumped into her, not looking or caring where she was walking. Max couldn't stop herself before she shouted after the girl, with contempt lacing the tone of her voice.

"Hey!" The punk shouted as she walked a bit past Dana. "How about you watch where you're going?"

The girl stopped dead in her tracks, before turning right around to face Max, a scowl adorning her face that would have made most people's blood run cold. But the pinknette was far from intimidated. She'd dealt with these kinds of self-entitled rich kids with superiority complexes for years. The girl put her hands on her hips, giving Max a moment to size up her adversary. She was a decent bit taller than Max, though not quite as tall as Dana. Her dirty blonde hair was styled into a pixie cut, her makeup was done immaculately, and she was dressed in a dark grey cashmere sweater, with a bright yellow thigh length skirt, a shameless display of her apparent wealth.

"I'm sorry," The girl spat, her voice laced with venom. "Maybe you should watch where you're standing. Not everyone has the wherewithal to keep an eye out for druggies and whores."

Max stepped forward, teeth and fists beginning to clench. "You got a problem, bitch?"

Dana quickly stepped in front of the punk, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Come on, Max, don't." She said, taking a quick look back at the girl. "She's not worth it."

The bitch pursed her lips into a smirk as Dana stepped between the two of them. "I would listen to her if I were you." She quipped, crossing her arms. "Dana, maybe you should invest in a leash. It would certainly help _chattes_ like this one learn their place."

Max had no clue what this girl had just called her. But in that moment, she could not care less. It was time to announce her arrival at this shithole. To send a message that she was not to be fucked with. She pushed Dana out of the way and made a beeline straight for the girl. The pinknette grabbed the blonde by the scruff of her shirt and promptly shoved her against the wall of lockers, much to the taller girl's horror.

"What the fuck?!" The blonde girl exclaimed as her back slammed into the wall of metal. "Get your hands off me!"

"You know," Max practically snarled, getting right up in the taller girl's face. "The last girl who made life difficult for me ended up in the emergency room." She slammed a fist into the locker, missing the girl's face by less than an inch. "And the funny thing is, you're starting to remind me a lot of her." A jolt of pain shivered down Max's arm from the impact of her fist meeting the steel, but she maintained her composure. At this point, the blonde girl's eyes were wide with what the pinknette could only assume was poorly hidden terror. "I don't care who you are, or how much money you have. If you start shit with me," The punk leaned in closer still, lowering her voice to barely a whisper. "I. Will. Hurt. You." And with that, Max let go of the girl's shirt, and the bitch proceeded to walk away quickly, only offering a single look back before she disappeared into the halls of the school.

Max turned back to Dana, who's mouth was hung agape as she stood motionless. The punk hung her head, rubbing the back of her neck. "Uh... sorry you had to see that."

The taller girl's face slowly began to twist into a grin. "No need to apologize." Dana said quietly. "Max, that was... awesome. Kind of scary, but awesome."

"Yeah," The punk replied sheepishly. "Hopefully there won't be a need for it again."

The cheerleader simply sighed and shook her head. She stepped forward and put a hand on Max's shoulder. "Unfortunately, I think there will." She let out a soft, somewhat remorseful laugh. "That was Victoria Chase."

"And?" Max deadpanned.

 _"And_ she's one of the heads of the Vortex Club."

"English please, Dana."

The taller girl shook her head once more. She began to walk, motioning for Max to follow her. "The Vortex Club pretty much runs this place, Max." She explained with a hint of pity in her voice. "Not a lot of people are fond of them, but they're the ones with money and power. Getting in Victoria's face like that just earned you a lot of enemies."

 _Well, shit,_ Max thought to herself. _I haven't even been here a full day and I'm already getting myself into trouble. So much for my fucking promise._ "And here I was thinking I'd have trouble fitting in."

* * *

 _ **A few hours later...**_

Chloe's heart was still racing, fingers still trembling like minuscule earthquakes as she opened the front door. She was still quite shaken up from what had happened earlier. What the fuck was Frank's problem? In all the time Chloe had known him, he had always been cool, calm, and even somewhat friendly. And now here he was shaking her down for money just a short time later. She supposed she shouldn't have been surprised. After all, Frank was a _drug dealer._ Being violent and intimidating when it was called for were pretty much part of his profession. Chloe shook her head as she entered her house, somewhat relieved by the smell of food on the stove that crept into her nostrils. Mom was home early.

"Chloe?" She heard Joyce call from the kitchen. "Is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me." She answered nonchalantly as she began heading up the stairs. She needed to play it cool. If her mother or step-dick saw the bruise on her face, they'd certainly start asking questions. There was no possible way that could end well.

"Hold on a second, hon." Joyce said as she stepped away from her slaving. "Where exactly have you been? You've been gone almost all day."

 _Shit,_ the bluenette thought. "Mom, can we not do this right now? Please?"

This only added to Joyce's determination as she started up the stairs after Chloe. "I knew somethin' was up! Come down here and talk to me!"

 _God dammit,_ Chloe didn't respond to her mother's demands, electing only to move faster, quickly stepping into her room and locking the door behind her. With any luck, this would deter Joyce, at least for a bit. She couldn't see the bruise. If she saw it, she'd tell David, and that would only lead to way more trouble than Chloe needed. She needed to be alone, to find a way to cover the mark up, maybe medicate a bit before dealing with her family. Sadly, it seemed Joyce had other plans, as Chloe's doorknob began to jiggle erratically.

"Chloe!" Joyce called out from the other side of the door. "Please open this door and talk to me!"

"Jesus fuck!" The bluenette exclaimed as she took a seat at her desk, purposefully turning her back to the door. "I asked _nicely_ if we could just not do this right now."

"Well, unfortunately for you," her mother said once more before a _click_ sounded out and the door opened, "I still have the master key."

 _Fuuuuuuuck,_ Chloe thought to herself as her fingers clenched. This was happening. This was happening and there was no way it was going to end peacefully. She reluctantly spun around in her chair to face her mother. Joyce wore a display of frustration on her face, which quickly morphed to concern when she saw her daughter's face. "What is that?" She said as she stepped closer to her daughter. "Chloe, is that a _bruise?"_

"It's nothing." The nineteen-year old scrambled to find an excuse. "I just... fell down earlier. It's fine."

Joyce sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Chloe, please don't bullshit me. If it was nothing, you wouldn't have tried so hard to hide it."

"Why do you care?" Chloe snapped. "I really don't see how it concerns you."

"You are my _daughter."_ Her mother spat in return. "I am responsible for your well being. So yes, it _does_ concern me."

The bluenette leaned back in her chair, not saying a word. Her mother was right, of course, but that still didn't mean she could help. As good as Joyce's intentions were, Chloe needed to do this on her own. It would just be easier for everyone that way.

"Chloe," Joyce lowered her voice, allowing it take a more somber tone. The older woman sat down on her daughter's bed. _"Please_ talk to me. Whatever is going on, I promise I will help you any way I can."

Chloe groaned, clenching her fists. Her mother didn't deserve this. She didn't deserve the constant worrying about her colossal fuck up of a daughter, not knowing if she'd come home in one piece or not. It made the nineteen-year old feel like shit. It wasn't like this was the first time, either. Chloe had been a wreck for five years, ever since her father had died. But maybe she didn't have to be. "Mom..." she began, carefully considering her words. Chloe sighed. "Just... please don't tell David, alright? The last thing I need is him up in my shit too."

Joyce shook her head. "Alright."

The bluenette was surprised. Maybe her mother was more understanding than she'd been given credit for. "Okay, so..." she began, before taking a deep breath. "A few months back, I... borrowed some money. To get my truck fixed." Joyce nodded, giving Chloe the go ahead to continue. "I had planned to... well, not run away, but... me and Rachel were planning to head off to California. But, then she disappeared, so that went to shit."

"You were gonna leave?" Joyce questioned, her voice twinged with a hint of accusation. "And when were you planning on telling me this?"

"Eventually." Chloe said sheepishly, to which her mother groaned. "Anyway, I uh... didn't really have a way to pay back the money I borrowed. And the person I borrowed from is..." She sighed once more, knowing how it must have sounded to Joyce. "Is getting kind of impatient. This..." she motioned to her face. "Was a warning, I guess."

Joyce rested her face in her palm. "Jesus, Chloe." There was a prominent silence between the two of them for a moment, and the nineteen-year old's stomach was turning as she feared what her mother's response would be. Finally, Joyce looked back up at her daughter. "Who did you borrow from?"

 _Dammit,_ Chloe thought as she sighed. _I knew she was going to ask that._ "Mom, I..." Would it be worth it? If Joyce knew Chloe had borrowed money from a drug dealer, she would have no choice but to involve David. And that would dredge up a swirling torrent of bullshit that she simply didn't need to deal with. It was better that way. "I can't."

"Chloe..."

"Mom, please." The bluenette cut her mother off. "I appreciate the concern, but... it's complicated, okay?" Chloe leaned forward in her chair, hanging her head as she tried to convince her mother to drop it. "If I told you who it was, it would just cause a lot more problems than it would solve." The silence returned. Chloe could feel her mother's disappointment glaring down on her like a death ray. This was such bullshit. Joyce shouldn't have had to deal with this, and knowing so made the nineteen-year old feel horrible. But then, lots of things shouldn't have happened. Rachel shouldn't have disappeared. Max shouldn't have fucked off to Seattle. Her dad shouldn't have died in that fucking wreck. It was so unfair.

After a lengthy silence, Joyce finally spoke again. "How much do you owe?"

Chloe shook her head. "A little over three grand."

Her mother stood up from the bed, shaking her head and letting out a sigh. "You got a pen and paper anywhere?"

"Yeah. Why?" The bluenette questioned as she handed Joyce a pen and notebook from her cluttered desk.

"You don't want to tell me who's bothering you, fine." The older woman quipped as she began writing on a blank sheet of paper. "But you owe someone money. And there _is_ one sure fire way to make money." Joyce proceeded to plop the notebook into Chloe's lap. There was only a ten digit phone number written on the paper, one that the nineteen year old immediately recognized.

"This..." she picked up the notebook in her hands. "This is the Two Whales' number."

"Yes it is." Joyce said quite matter-of-factly as a slight smile drew across her face. "I want you to call around four tomorrow and ask for Louis." And with that, Joyce was done speaking, she promptly turned away and walked out of the room, leaving her daughter alone with her thoughts.

 _Did I just get a job?_

* * *

 **Earlier...**

"So then this one decides, _hey, let's go swimming."_ Dana portrayed sarcastically while her apparent best friend Juliet hung her head. Max found herself unable to suppress her laughter, leaning back up against the hallway walls as her friend continued the story. "We drive our asses all the way down to the lake in ninety degree weather, no air conditioning in the car. We finally get there, and of course, nobody remembered to pack their swimsuits."

"I hate you, Dana." The girl named Juliet groaned.

"Hey, wherever this is going, I'm sure I can beat it." Max replied, shaking her head.

"Is that right?" Dana queried, raising an eyebrow. "We'll have to see about that. Anyway, for whatever reason, all of us decide to say fuck the swimsuits and just go in bare ass naked. All is well until it's time to leave and our fucking clothes are missing." Her voice began to rise, unable to contain the sheer amount of fuckery in her story. "Chase and her cronies had actually followed us down there and stole our clothes. We had to come all the way back here naked as hell."

Max simply laughed. "I really know how to pick my enemies, don't I?" Her statement was far more dreadful than she intended. Perhaps she knew the road ahead would be fraught with social peril. It wasn't as though Max didn't know how to play this game, but she didn't want to. She would have rather left this kind of bullshit in Seattle.

"Hey, at least you have us." Juliet piped up with a smirk on her face. "Not everyone in the Vortex Club is a total asshole, right?"

"And for that, I am eternally grateful." The punk took a very exaggerated bow, forcing a chuckle from the two taller girls. At the very least, she had made a few friends to compliment her ever growing list of mortal enemies. A list she'd have to be very careful to try not to add to. The last thing Max needed was to become the center of ire for every rich, entitled snob who just so happened to attend Blackwell.

"So," Dana looked straight at Max, a devilish grin beginning to form on her face. "You promised you could beat my story. I'll admit to some curiosity."

"Damn it." Max laughed as she shook her head. "Are you sure you need this now?"

"Absolutely." The cheerleader quipped back, giving Juliet a nudge. "We shared with you, we expect something in return. Fair is fair, Max."

"Okay, um..." Max pinched the bridge of her nose. "So, back in Seattle, I... may have been in a band."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. This one night we were going to play at some dive bar downtown, right?" Max leaned forward slightly, taking note of the interested expressions on her friends' faces. However, the punk's undoubtedly thrilling tale was undermined as the sound of the hallway door opening and closing sounded out, and another new face made itself known, its owner politely trying to scoot by the girls who were apparently taking up far too much of the hallway.

"Excuse me, guys. Sorry." The girl said in an apologetic tone as she tried to maneuver herself around the trio. "I have a lot of homework to catch up on."

"You're fine, Kate." Dana replied as the three moved out of her way. "Oh hey, this is Max. She's new here."

The girl named Kate took a glance at Max with what looked like a genuine smile, which was quickly replaced by nervousness and skepticism as soon as the two got a good look at each other. Kate's clearly lengthy blonde hair was pulled back in a sizable bun, she was clad in a dark navy blue sweater, with a skirt that went well below her knees. And then there was the necklace adorning the girl's neck, a small golden cross hanging from it's curve. _Ah,_ Max thought to herself. _She's a churchey one._ The punk had not had many good encounters with those who considered themselves religious. The dyed hair, piercings, and her choice of music pretty much screamed _Antichrist_ to most church-goers. But then, what could it hurt to try and break the cycle?

"Nice to meet you." The punk said, extending a hand forward.

"Uh, yeah." Kate said, clearly nervous. What followed was likely the wimpiest and shortest handshake Max had ever been involved in.

 _Wow,_ the pinknette thought as the gesture was broken and the church girl walked away rather quickly. _You that afraid you'll burst into flames?_ Once Kate was out of earshot, Max wasted no time turning back to Dana and Juliet. "The hell is her problem?"

"Hey, come on, Max." Dana scolded. "Kate is one of the sweetest people you'll ever meet. She just... needs some time warming up to you."

"What? Does she think I'm gonna use her for some ritual sacrifice or something?" Max spat sarcastically. "Blood of a virgin and all that?"

"She'll come around eventually." Juliet assured, putting a hand on Max's shoulder. "Now, then... about this dive bar..."


	4. Chapter 4

_**Chapter Four**_

* * *

 **September 2013**

Chloe let out a very exaggerated groan as she plopped down onto the seat of her truck. Standing up for eight hours straight was not fun. But then, it could have been worse. She could have been stuck tending to the asshole customers in the diner like her mother, instead of just washing dishes. Even so, work sucked. Being an adult sucked, come to think of it. How did Joyce and step-asshole live with themselves, waking up every morning to do the same job, deal with the same people, all to pay the same bills every month? The sheer monotony was soul-crushing. Chloe sighed, reaching into her glove box for a pack of cigarettes. _Oh well,_ she thought as she flicked a lighter, taking a deep breath of smoke. _At least this will help me pay Frank back._

As though it were fate, Chloe's phone began to vibrate right then. The bluenette reached into her pocket, only to be horrified when she was greeted by the sight of no less than six missed calls from Frank, as well as over a dozen text messages. Her fingers began to tremble, as she dared look at them.

 **F: Chloe [12:02 P.M.]**

 **F: My money [12:03 P.M.]**

 **F: Where is it [12:03 P.M.]**

The nineteen-year old knew she was making a mistake as she scrolled down, daring to read the rest of the dealer's messages. What the fuck was his problem? She had told him she was working on getting him the money. Where the hell was his supposed patience?

 **F: Don't ignore me [12:45 P.M.]**

 **F: CHLOE [1:32 P.M.]**

 **F: ANSWER YOUR FUCKING PHONE [2:58 P.M.]**

 **F: I [3:21 P.M.]**

 **F: WANT [3:21 P.M.]**

 **F: MY [3:21 P.M.]**

 **F: MONEY [3:22 P.M.]**

The bluenette was legitimately terrified now. It was already clear that Frank had no problem getting violent when his patience was tested. There was no telling just how far he'd go the longer Chloe was unable to give him back his money. She leaned forward in her seat, lying her head against the steering wheel. This was bad. Very, very bad. There was no way this job would pay her enough to save three grand in any sort of timely fashion. And Chloe very much doubted Frank would be okay with getting a little at a time. He was an _all or nothing_ kind of person, made obvious enough by his profession. She took another drag off her cigarette, desperately trying to think up a game plan. If Frank came after her, it would be bad news no matter way which way things went down. If she tried to deal with it on her own, she could very well end up dead. If she tried to go to the cops, they would undoubtedly tell David, which would undoubtedly lead to the dickhead putting his hands on her, maybe even kicking her out.

And then, as though fate itself were trying to taunt her, Chloe's phone began to ring. Of all the people on this miserable planet, it was none other than Frank.

 _Well, speak of the fucking devil,_ the bluenette thought as she reluctantly answered the call. She knew purposefully ignoring Frank would only serve to piss him off even more. "Hello?" she said weakly, putting the device up to her ear.

 _"Well, well, she lives after all."_ Frank's distorted voice made its unwelcome way into Chloe's eardrums. _"And here I was getting all worked up. Thought you were ignoring me."_ Chloe only sighed. The older man was screwing with her, she knew it. She should have known right from the beginning that borrowing money from him was a big mistake. _"But you'd never ignore your old friend. Right, Chloe?"_ The nineteen-year old heard Frank chuckle through the phone, which forced a scowl to form on her face.

"What do you want, Frank?" Chloe groaned, hoping to buy herself some time to think. She wasn't stupid. She knew exactly what the dealer wanted. The bluenette just wasn't sure she was prepared to handle his reaction to her still not having his money.

 _"Oh, I want a lot of things, Chloe."_ Frank said, the sarcastic tone in his voice growing more prevalent with every syllable. _"World peace, a nice woman to call my own. A big sack of treats for my dog. But most of all,"_ the man chuckled softly. _"I want my fucking money."_ His tone shifted from playful to vicious and hostile in an instant. Chloe winced just from the sound of Frank's voice, her heart rate quickening as she scrambled to think of something to tell him. She sighed. Fuck it, what harm was there in seeing how well he'd be willing to take small payments.

"Look, I'll..." Chloe stammered, hoping like hell she wouldn't piss him off even more. "I'l have... some of it for you on Friday."

 _"Some of it?"_ Frank questioned. _"The hell do you mean_ some _of it?"_

The nineteen-year old sighed. "I got a job." She said with a hint of embarrassment.

There was a short silence on the other end of the call, followed by manic laughter. Apparently Frank found this quite amusing. "You _got a job?"_ he said in between hefty laughs. _"You of all people? You're joking, right?"_

She groaned. "No, Frank. I'm not joking." The bluenette found the older man's continued laughter quite annoying. But the revelation seemed to put him in a more generous mood, at least. "I get paid on Friday. I'll have some for you then." She hesitated before continuing. "And more next week."

Frank continued to laugh for a moment, causing Chloe's teeth to grit and her hands to clench on the steering wheel. It wasn't _that_ funny, but the nineteen-year old managed to restrain herself from simply hanging up on the bastard. Finally, the older man's laughter died down, much to Chloe's relief. _"Oh man, that was good."_ She heard Frank take a deep breath through the phone. _"Thing is, I usually only accept payments in full. But I'll tell ya what, since you made me laugh, I'll make an exception this one time. Meet me at the junkyard Friday with as much as you can give me, okay?"_

"Fine." Chloe spat as she moved the device away from her face, finger already primed to hang up.

 _"Good."_ It appeared Frank wasn't done talking. _"But don't think this is settled. After this one payment, I expect the rest of it in full."_ The line promptly went dead, and Chloe was outraged. What the fuck was his problem? She had just clearly laid out for him that she would be able to pay him back over time. Why the fuck wasn't that good enough? The bluenette rested her head against the steering wheel. At the very least, she had bought herself some time. She needed to come up with a plan, though, and quickly. The longer she made Frank wait, the more dangerous he'd be. With keys in the ignition, Chloe backed out of her parking spot, pulling out of the Two Whales parking lot, mind racing at just how she was going to come up with enough cash to placate Frank.

Chloe took a drag off her cigarette as her mind wandered. There had to be a way to get Frank off her back that wouldn't get her in a metric shit ton of trouble. Taking out a loan wasn't really in the question, as her credit was probably shit. And of course, if she so much as imagined stealing money, David would find out and be on her like a dog on a rotten steak. The nineteen-year old gritted her teeth. This was such bullshit. Why couldn't Frank just be happy being paid back a little at a time? Where the fuck was Chloe supposed to get this kind of money? It wasn't like...

Chloe's mind stopped racing for a moment as she passed a billboard on the road. The sign itself was of no importance, it was the name smeared in fancy bright white paint which caught her attention. _Prescott._ The bluenette knew who the Prescott family were, everyone in Arcadia Bay did. An incredibly wealthy, powerful family who pretty much owned the entire town. Sean Prescott, the patriarch, was rumored to be involved in a great number of shady business ventures, but Chloe's concern lied elsewhere. One of the few things she remembered from her time at Blackwell Academy was that Sean had a son about her age. Nathan. A cocky, ill-tempered asshole who loved to flaunt his cash. And being a Prescott, cash was in no short supply with him.

 _Okay, Chloe,_ thought to herself as she took another drag. _Let's hope you inherited some of mom's charm._

* * *

 **The next day...**

Max would be the first to admit, she had a great deal of respect for her photography teacher. He had been an icon in the art world, a standard to which many others, herself included, would aspire to. But _sweet merciful Jesus,_ Jefferson could write a book about what he had eaten for breakfast. His current lecture had lasted almost the entire 60 minute class period, and Max found herself struggling to stay awake as the moments dragged on. She was convinced he just enjoyed the sound of his own voice. The punk let out a deep yawn, as her eyes began to scan the room.

There were a about a dozen other students in the class, most of them nameless jokers who sort of blended into the background, as Max had not yet bothered to learn their names. But the few she had already made acquaintance with spelled trouble. The table just next to her was occupied by none other than Victoria Chase, the supposed queen bee of Blackwell Academy, along with two girls who were undoubtedly her cronies. When she wasn't ogling Mr. Jefferson in the most obvious and creepy of fashions, Chase had occasionally glanced over at Max while Jefferson's back was turned, casting a scathing death glare that would have intimidated most other students. But Max was used to this kind of social manipulation, she had dealt with it for years in Seattle. The rich girl's glare was met with only a raised eyebrow and mocking indifference. If she wanted to, Max could easily have beaten this girl to a pulp. But then, she _had_ promised her parents that she would behave herself. Max shook her head, it wasn't worth it.

The table directly on the other side of Max had only one occupant, the stammering church girl from a few days ago. What was her name again? Kate? Unlike most of the other students in this class, Kate's attention had been focused entirely on Jefferson's lecture, diligently taking notes, even raising her hand to ask the occasional question. If it had been any more obvious, Max would have accused her of being a teacher's pet. The punk had to admit, she was a little confused by Kate. In Seattle, they had their churches, their groups of religious fanatics, but most of them spent their free time protesting local concerts or abortion clinics, harassing patrons and informing them that they were destined for eternal hellfire. But Kate was different. She seemed to keep to herself regarding her beliefs, and from what Max had gathered from asking about her, seemed to be a genuinely good person. So why then, did she act so skittish around Max? What was her problem?

"...And you can read all about it in your _textbooks."_ Jefferson's last word appeared to be directed right at Max, who immediately snapped right back to reality. So he was one of those _all seeing_ teachers. That was just _perfect._ She rolled her eyes as Jefferson continued. "Now then, the bell is about to ring in a few minutes, and I'm sure you're all very eager to head back to your dorms and do whatever it is you _crazy kids_ do to celebrate the first day of school." There was a collective groan from the class at their teacher's flat-fallen attempt at humor. "But I have something else planned for you all. Seeing as we have some new faces in the class," Jefferson was undoubtedly referring to Max, who simply shook her head. "I've decided to assign a partner project, so that we as artists can better appreciate the struggles of the human condition." Max sighed. He was _still_ talking. "After all, the human condition is what we are so focused on capturing, so to to better understand its struggles and hardships, why not start with each other?"

As if on cue, the entire class began to exchange looks with one another. Typical, a teacher so much as mentioned the word _partner_ and everybody immediately flocks together. And here was Max, with no one in particular that she really cared for.

"Now, before you get too excited," Jefferson began again after a short silence, a smirk adorning his face. _"I'm_ picking your partners. Art is not easy, after all, so why should this be any different?" A wave of disappointment and outrage fell over the room, as most everyone silently cursed Jefferson for his diabolical masochism. Okay, maybe that was a little much. In truth, it made Max a bit more nervous. She didn't really know any of these people, and was unsure that anyone who attended a fancy private school would be able to stomach working with someone who still used a Polaroid camera.

Jefferson walked over to his desk, pulling up a sheet of paper as the class anxiously waited to see who they would be riding into battle with. Max took a deep breath, assuring herself it would be fine. So long as she wasn't paired with Victoria or one of her cronies, she was certain she could schmooze her way into a semi-productive partnership. The teacher began reading out the names of his chosen subjects. Right off the bat, _Victoria Chase_ was paired with _Hayden Jones,_ and Max breathed a heavy sigh of relief. _Thank Dog,_ she thought, leaning back in her chair. _Dodged a bullet there._

The list of names continued. _Taylor Christensen_ was paired with _Daniel De Costa, Alyssa Hall_ with _Stella Hill._ As much as Max tried, she couldn't bring herself to make a mental note of all these names, if they were that important, she could always learn them later. Right now, the punk was focused on Jefferson's list and who she would be stuck with.

"Max Caulfield," the teacher at long last said her name, followed by a short silence as though he were pondering the decision. "You'll be working with... Kate Marsh."

The church girl. Max made a subtle nod, it could have been far worse. She took a glance to the table next to her, and Kate, who moments ago had worn a brilliant smile and carefree demeanor, was now visibly tensed up and nervous. The pinknette couldn't help but roll her eyes. There was no reason for this girl to have such a problem with her, they had barely even said two words to each other.

The bell sounded, signaling the inevitable end of the school day. Max took one last glance at Kate, who did not return the look. She sighed, grabbing her backpack off the ground. _Don't be so hard on the girl, Max,_ she thought to herself as she stood up from her chair. _Remember what Dana said, she just needs some time to warm up to you. Best thing to do is just bite the bullet._ She took a few steps over to Kate's seat, the girl was apparently trying to occupy herself with what looked like homework. Max pinched the bridge of her nose, having a sneaking suspicion this was solely to avoid having to talk to her. She gave the church girl a tap on the shoulder. "Kate?"

Kate jumped at the sound of Max's voice, which the pinknette had to admit was kind of funny. "Uh... hey, Max." Kate managed to squeak out, her voice a bit shaky. She tried to force a smile at the punk, and although Max appreciated that Kate was trying, she still found it a bit annoying that the Christian girl was still acting so nervous and scared around her.

"So," Max spoke nonchalantly, crossing her arms. "I guess we're gonna be working together. You wanna meet up later and start on the project?"

"I, um..." Kate began to stammer, and the punk raised an eyebrow. "I don't know if I can. I have a lot of stuff to get done." She stood up from her chair, clearly seeking a quick exit from the conversation. Unfortunately for her, Max was not having it. She grabbed Kate by the shoulder, forcing a stop to the Christian girl's movement and pulled her back into the talk. Enough was enough. It was time to find out what was Kate's problem with her.

"Kate," Max began with a stern tone in her voice. "Are you trying to avoid me?"

The look of pure terror that washed over Kate's face gave Max more of an answer than words could. "What?" Kate stuttered once more. "Max, I... I just..." She began to fall over her words, and the punk rested her face in her palm for a moment before cutting Kate off.

"You know, I'd really like to know what it is you have against me." Max crossed her arms indignantly. "I understand I'm not exactly _Bible study_ material, but damn. I haven't even said two words to you since the other day." Kate began to hang her head, the pinknette wasn't sure if it was shame or fear that made the girl unable to meet her gaze. Max sighed, putting a hand on Kate's shoulder. "Look, I promise I haven't been sent by Satan to lead you into temptation or whatever." She joked. "Scout's honor."

"That..." Kate started, before shaking her head. "That's really not funny, Max." The punk simply sighed in response. "Look," Kate continued. "I do need to get started on my homework, but... if you want to," She paused for a moment, clearly still nervous. "You can come by my room around four thirty. We'll start on it then."

"Sounds like a plan." Max grumbled as Kate quickly walked away.

 _Yeah, there is no way this girl and I are going to be friends._

* * *

 **The previous night...**

Chloe took one final look in her rearview mirror. Hopefully she had dolled herself up enough to catch Nathan Prescott's attention. Chloe hated wearing makeup, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and Frank was getting more impatient by the day. Hopefully Joyce wouldn't notice that Chloe _borrowed_ one of her outfits. Flirtatious, but not revealing enough to be considered _slutty._ Chloe groaned. She absolutely despised herself for doing this, for borrowing the money from Frank in the first place. But then, if this worked out, she might even have a little left over for herself. Chloe took a deep breath and stepped out of her truck.

This old, decrepit, shitty bar on the outskirts of Arcadia Bay was notorious for not carding people. Not that Chloe cared, her fake ID had come in handy more times than not. Why Nathan Prescott would choose a shithole like this to get blackout drunk was beyond her. _Rich people,_ she shook her head. _I'll never understand them._

Chloe waltzed right through the front door with no trouble. The bouncer at the door didn't seem to care who came into the bar, so long as they were paying and didn't cause trouble. Or so Chloe thought, as she almost immediately spotted Nathan, light brown hair slicked back, clad in a brown leather jacket and a loose fitting pair of jeans, already visibly drunk, shouting orders at the bartender to keep the drinks coming, flashing bills in people's faces. The bluenette gulped. It was now or never.

Chloe quietly pushed her way through the crowd of people, all of whom seemed rather annoyed at the dickhead rich kid at the bar. Luring him back to his room at Blackwell was practically a public service, it seemed.

"Where the fuck is my drink?"

The unwelcome sensation of Nathan's voice bounced off against Chloe's eardrums, the nineteen-year old couldn't help but scowl as she approached. She hadn't interacted much with Nathan during her time at Blackwell, but if the stories were anything to go by, he was a royal prick who saw everyone around him as inferior, always bragging about his money. He also apparently had a tendency to get violent with anyone who so much as looked at him the wrong way. Chloe had to be very careful with this.

She walked nonchalantly over to the bar, where Nathan had finally received his bottle of Jack, and was proceeding to down it like it was water. Impressive, Chloe had to admit, but ultimately his downfall, as she intentionally bumped into the elite snob, causing him to spill his drink all over his clothes and have a fit of coughing as a small bit of alcohol went down his windpipe. Nathan immediately stood up from his bar stool, looking as though he was ready to kill whoever had the nerve to make him spill his drink. He was taken aback, however, when met with the sight of Chloe, showing far more skin than usual and doing her damnedest to look frightful and apologetic.

"Oh, shit," she put a hand over her mouth. "I'm so sorry, I should have looked where I was going." Chloe was really laying it on thick, letting her mother's southern accent come out in full force. "Here, let me get you another drink."

"It's fine." Nathan grumbled, making no effort to hide the face that he was eyeing Chloe. "Not like I can't afford another. I could buy this whole fucking place if I wanted!" He shouted the last line, obviously trying to spite the patrons, or possibly trying to impress the girl in front of him. Chloe had to do her best not to gag. Instead she let a playful smirk come across her face, as she stepped just a bit closer to Nathan.

"Oh, really now?" She raised an eyebrow, trying her best to sound flirtatious. "I bet a man like you could do all kinds of things with that sort of money. I'll admit to some..." Chloe made a subtle flutter with her eyelashes. "Curiosity."

She had Nathan's undivided attention now, as he began to wear a smirk himself, and closed the gap between them even further, putting a hand around Chloe's waist while she had to resist the urge to vomit. "Is that right?" He proceeded to drag his eyes up and down Chloe's body once more. "Well then, what do you say we get out of here? I can show you exactly the kind of things I can do."

Chloe leaned in, thanking the lord that Nathan was clearly too drunk to see how disgusted she was. She stopped just before their lips touched, and allowed her smile to grow wide. "Lead the way."

* * *

 **The following evening...**

 _This girl and I are going to be great friends._

Max's face found itself in a great deal of pain, not from any form of violence as would have likely been the case in Seattle, but because she had done almost nothing except smile like an idiot ever since she had set foot in Kate's room. She and the Christian girl had clearly misjudged each other, Kate had taken Max for a dangerous delinquent, and Max had taken Kate for an uptight, holier than thou Bible thumper. Both were pleasantly surprised this was not the case.

"So then Chloe starts freaking out, pulls like three bottles of Windex out from underneath the sink," Max continued the story in progress, taking another sip of tea. She didn't normally drink tea, her go to beverage was usually the blackest coffee possible, but something about the tea Kate had prepared made it irresistible. "She and I scrub like crazy, but the stain just won't come up. I mean, we were both a little drunk at this point, so that probably didn't help." This forced an adorably innocent giggle from Kate. "We try to cover it up with the rug, but of course Joyce and William come home, move it back, see the stain. They called my parents and I got grounded for two weeks."

Kate shook her head, still wearing that radiant smile as she took another sip of tea herself. "Wow," she said with another soft laugh. "Sounds like you had some crazy times with this Chloe girl."

"Yeah, we did." Max leaned back in her chair, setting her cup down on the foldable set in the middle of Kate's room. There was a short silence as Max's mind began to wander. Telling stories about all the good times she had with Chloe only served to remind her of her guilt. She had been back in Arcadia for almost a week and had still yet to reach out to her best friend, _after_ not calling or texting once in five years, all while her friend was grieving the loss of her father. Some fucking friend she was. Max sighed. "I miss her."

Kate raised an eyebrow. "Miss her?" She set her own cup down, now focusing her attention fully on Max. "What do you mean?"

"Umm..." the punk rubbed the back of her neck, a clear display of shame. "After me and my family moved to Seattle, she and I kind of lost touch. I haven't talked to her in five years."

"Oh my," Kate's eyes widened slightly as she leaned back in her own chair. "Well... I mean, you should reach out to her, then. What's stopping you?"

The pinknette sighed. "We moved _right_ after her dad died. The day we left, I tried to come say goodbye, and she..." Max felt a tear forming, she quickly blinked a few times to fight it back. "She told me she never wanted to see me again. Slammed the door in my face. I haven't spoken to her since."

"Oh. I'm sorry, Max." The Christian girl's tone became much softer and comforting. Max was appreciative that Kate was so understanding.

"I _want_ to get in touch with her again, but..." the punk shook her head and took a deep breath. "I'm afraid she still hates me."

Kate simply nodded. "That's very possible." She crossed one leg over the over, setting both hands on her knee. "But I still think you should. Worst case scenario, you're right, and she's moved on."

"Uh huh." Max grumbled. "And what exactly would the _best_ case scenario be?"

The Christian girl shrugged. "You two work it out, and you get your best friend back."

And with that, the pinknette couldn't help but crack a smile. Something about Kate just felt so reassuring, she seemed naturally gifted in the art of helping people, offering advice to Max without sounding judgy or condescending. The punk was quite grateful they had been introduced when they were.

"You're right." Max chuckled as she took another sip of tea. "I think that's exactly what I'll do."

* * *

 **1:22 A.M. that morning...**

There was a loud thump as Chloe's back slammed into Nathan's door. It was rather hard for either of them to see where they were going, their mouths were so entangled in one another's, kissing frantically, making not-so-subtle grabs at each other's clothes. The rich boy managed to pry his hand away from her thigh to open the door to his room. It was dimly lit, Chloe could barely see Nathan's face right in front of her own. Within moments, the two were on his bed, carrying on as if their lives depended on fucking each other's brains out right then and there. Chloe could have thought of several thousand other things she'd be doing right now, but Nathan Prescott seemed far too drunk or oblivious to notice her discomfort. A small blessing. He suddenly tore himself away from Chloe, wearing a cocky smirk on his face as he turned to a desk in the corner of the room. The bluenette sat up, the tiniest bit unnerved by the boy's sudden disinterest.

"Uh, you okay?" She said, scooting herself to the edge of the bed. Nathan simply chuckled as he removed his jacket.

"Oh, I'm just fine, babe." He almost growled, back still turned. Chloe couldn't help but roll her eyes. She should have guessed trying to drink Nathan Prescott under the table would be no easy task, even if he had a decent head start on her. "Hey, there's a bottle of Jack in the night stand." He finally turned back around, two plastic cups in hand. "You mind grabbing it?"

 _Plastic. Real classy,_ the bluenette mentally gagged herself, but still complied. Opening the cabinet next to the rich boy's bed, her eyes widened as she discovered not one, but several unopened bottles of Jack Daniels. _Jesus, Prescott,_ Chloe shook her head, taking one out. _Think you have enough in here?_ A quick tear, the crinkling of the plastic seal, and the bluenette somehow managed to keep her playful smile as she passed the bottle to Nathan. The rich boy had the most devilish grin Chloe had ever seen as he handed her back a cup now half full of whiskey.

"Bottoms up." Nathan laughed as the two touched cups before knocking back the Jack Daniels. Chloe's nose couldn't help but wrinkle as the familiar burn of alcohol made itself known in her throat. She let loose a small cough, throwing the cup across the room. The rich boy laughed. "Aw, come on. Don't tell me you're a lightweight."

"Not hardly." Chloe simply smirked, awaiting Nathan's drunk ass to stumble back to the bed and get this over with. But he simply stood there, leaning back against his desk, still grinning ear to ear. There was a short, deathly silence that began to unease the bluenette. "Hey, man." She said with a slight quiver in her voice. "Are you sure you're alright?"

Nathan chuckled. "Wait for it..."

These three words were all it took to make Chloe's stomach lurch violently. She immediately stood up from the bed, her mind only concerned with thoughts of escape. But as soon as her legs lifted her upright, the nineteen-year old's head began to swirl. The sickening dizziness made her unable to stand straight, the blunette almost immediately collapsed right in front of Nathan's door. _Oh God,_ she thought as her mind filled with nothing but pure terror. _He fucking drugged me._ Chloe was unable to move, the corners of her vision began to go dark as the rich boy laughed.

"Finally." He almost snarled. "Now we can really get this party started."

Nathan's blood curdling laughter was the last thing Chloe heard before she blacked out completely.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Chapter Five**_

* * *

Max let out a large belch, one that could have been mistaken for that of a grown man if not for her petite stature. This evoked a hearty laugh from Warren, Blackwell Academy's resident science nerd whom the punk had been introduced to a few days prior. Kate, on the other hand, was none too amused by Max's display of vulgarity, and elected to scoot a few inches away on the picnic blanket they had set on the lawn of the school's main campus, hoping to avoid a whiff of the pinknette's garlic breath. Max simply smirked. "Come on, Kate," she chuckled, mouth still partially full of the previous night's leftover garlic bread and pasta. "You'd think you'd be used to this by now."

"Yes, one _would_ think that." Kate groaned as she took a spoonful of her yogurt, shaking her head with disapproval.

"Wait a second, was that sarcasm?" Warren interjected, his eyes lighting up like Christmas trees. He turned to Max. "I think you're finally getting through to her."

The pinknette only smiled and shook her head in response. For an awkward walking stereotype of a nerd, Warren was pretty cool. Max had met him in her science class several days prior, and the two quickly gravitated towards each other's inner geek, engaging in lengthy conversations about the finer points of all things sci-fi and anime, heated debates over who was the best Doctor, which was the superior incarnation of the Batman, and the occasional Super Smash Bros match. It would have been the perfect friendship, had it not been for one small detail. Warren was obviously and hopelessly in love with Max, and was absolutely terrible at hiding it. The punk had tried to be subtle, hoping that the lovable dork would take the hint that she wasn't interested in him in that particular manner, but she had seen no such luck.

Kate simply shook her head. "I think not."

"Don't lie to me, Marsh." Max leaned over to give the Christian girl a nudge. "Pretty soon we'll have you going to hardcore shows and getting tatted up."

Kate sighed, chuckling just a bit at the punk's insistence. "Not even in your dreams."

The pinknette's smirk only grew even more taunting. "Come on, Kate. What do you have against us freaks? We've already established I'm not a satanic vampire or anything."

The Christian girl stifled a laugh. "It's just not really my style, I guess."

"Oh, Dog," Max rolled her eyes, scooting closer to Kate, putting an arm around the Christian girl's shoulder. "Listen, Kate. You might not see it, but I see boundless potential in you." Kate simply chuckled and rolled her own eyes as the punk began describing her glorious vision. "You could be my greatest achievement ever, but you've got to start taking chances. Stop hesitating."

Max's ranting and raving was all in jest, of course. She would never have tried to change her friend in such a manner, and Kate knew this. In truth, the punk was just glad to have a friend with a halfway decent sense of humor. It made her grateful that not everyone at Blackwell was a total asshole. Kate, Warren, even Dana had truly been Max's saving grace the past two weeks. Whenever a Vortex crony decided to make her life difficult, her friends were there to channel her anger. Every time Victoria Chase and her henchwomen tested her patience, the punk's friends had helped to calm her down, stop her from making poor decisions that likely would have ended in a rich girl's broken face. And yet, despite the pinknette's appreciation for her new friends, she couldn't help but feel a bit guilty. One friend in particular had been in the back of her mind since she had returned to Arcadia Bay.

"Speaking of hesitation," Kate turned her head, staring right through Max. "Have you gotten in touch with Chloe yet?"

Speaking of the devil. Max's playful smirk vanished, giving way to a shameful sigh and a hung head. It had been nearly a week since her conversation with Kate about Chloe, and her decision to reach out and reconnect with her old friend. But since then, Max had done the whopping grand total of absolutely nothing. It had been five years since she had seen or spoken to Chloe. Those years had left her a far different person, she could only guess the same would be said for her friend. To say she was anxious would be a massive understatement, just the thought of seeing Chloe again made her stomach lurch. She wanted to reach out, but the fear that her friend still hated her, still blamed her for leaving five years ago was almost too much.

"I..." Max began, before letting out another sigh, raising her head to face her Christian friend. "I want to, Kate. I really do, but... fuck, it's been _five years."_

"Max, the longer you wait, the worse it'll be." Kate replied, giving the punk her _scolding mother_ look that only the Christian girl could manage.

"Wait, did I miss something?" Warren interjected himself back into the conversation, swallowing down another bite of his sandwich. "Who's Chloe?"

"Long story short, my best friend." Max said with a twinge of shame in her voice. "My best friend that I haven't talked to in five years."

"That's rough, buddy." Warren jested, a smirk gracing the nerd's face as the punk rolled her eyes at the reference.

"Okay, _Zuko,"_ Max laughed in response. "You're not wrong, though. I know I need to get off my ass and just go see her, but..." The pinknette paused, the true weight of her hesitation finally weighing on her. "I just don't know if it'd even be worth it."

"She's your best friend, Max." Kate reassured the punk. "Why wouldn't it be worth it?"

"Because I went five years without calling or texting her even once?" Max shook her head. "And I'm not that innocent little bubbly thirteen year old I was. I don't want to drag her into my bullshit. If you guys haven't noticed, trouble seems to have a funny way of finding me."

"Speaking of trouble," Warren piped up, his gaze directed beyond his two friends. "Chase and her mean girls are inbound."

Max groaned, a scowl adorning her face. Of course, Victoria Chase and her Vortex cronies couldn't go a day without stirring up trouble with the punk. Max reluctantly turned her head behind her, catching a glimpse of the elite and her slaves making a beeline for her and her friends, their faces filthy with the typical _I'm better than you because I have money_ smirks that the pinknette had grown accustomed to over the past week.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" The sound like nails on a chalkboard bounced against Max's eardrums as Victoria entered the picture, her two slaves still far too unimportant for the punk to even learn their names. "We've got the social outcast, the awkward virgin, and the preachy bible thumper. Now all you need is one of the burnouts and you'll have the whole potpourri of pathetic."

The pinknette lifted a hand to clutch at her chest. "Oh, Chase. You wound me so." She cried with extreme dramaticism, lying down on the blanket as though her heart may have been about break from the rich girl's insult. "No, seriously." She began to whimper, laying it on thick that she wasn't about to be bothered by Victoria's taunting "I think I might have to go to my room and cry for a few hours."

"Max, just ignore her." Kate sighed, shaking her head and taking another spoonful of yogurt.

"Aw, sister Christian over here wants to preach to us." The rich girl turned her attention to Kate, causing Max to sit right up with a scowl quickly coming across her face. It was one thing if Victoria wanted to start trouble with her, but picking on her friends was one sure fire way for someone to get their ass kicked. "You still going on with your whole abstinence campaign, Kate? I can only imagine you creak like an old wooden door down there with the lack of attention you give yourself."

"She was talking to me, not you." Max snarled at Victoria, redirecting the Vortex leader's attention. "Don't you have anything better to do, Chase? With all that talk about how great you are, I would think you'd have more important things to do than bother us lowly peasants."

"Hmph." Victoria glared at the punk before reaching into the camera bag hanging at her waist, pulling out what looked to be a newspaper. "Just thought I'd come by and remind you of what happens when you fuck with me." She tossed the paper, plopping it down on the picnic blanket right in front of Max. It was a copy of the Blackwell Totem, the school's newspaper. But more importantly, this particular issue had a picture of Max on the cover. And the headline made her stomach churn. The punk picked up the rag, eyes wide with horror and rage as she began to read out loud.

"Are dangerous outsiders corrupting the moral fabric of our student body?" Max recited the headline, her hands beginning to shake from anger. She skimmed through the remainder of the article, finding various accusations of her selling drugs to students, bullying the members of the Vortex club, even getting in trouble with law enforcement. It was all lies, Max knew this. But the fact that Victoria knew about this headline, seemingly before anyone else, raised every last red flag imaginable. "What the hell is this?" The punk demanded, throwing the newspaper on the ground in a fit of anger.

"That, my dear vagrant, is Monday's paper." Victoria smirked, crossing her arms. "Like I said, it's what happens when you fuck with me. Also when one of the editors owes me a favor." The rich girl let out a short laugh, one that sent shocks of rage through Max's veins. "Anyway, I hope you enjoyed Blackwell. But I'd start packing if I were you. The second Wells sees this, you'll be out of here and well on your way back to wherever the hell you came from." Just as a final form of cruelty and vindictiveness, the rich girl made a small curtsy, before turning and walking away with her head held high. "Au revoir."

Max's jaw had never been so tightly clenched in her eighteen years. It was clear now, playing nice and staying out of trouble was going to get her nowhere. Victoria Chase had to be brought down a notch or six. And if there was one person for that job, it was Max Fucking Caulfield.

"Kate," The punk growled as she stood up off the ground. "Say a prayer for me."

"Why?" The Christian girl's tone became very concerned and frightful.

"Because I am definitely going to hell for what I'm about to do to this bitch."

Max darted after Victoria, fists clenched tighter than ever before, ready to layeth the smacketh down on the rich girl and her cronies, while Kate and Warren rushed after the punk, begging her to calm down and reconsider her actions. But it was too late now. Max Caulfield was on a war path, and her friends' pleas fell on deaf ears. This had been a long time coming. There was no turning back.

"Hey, Chase!"

When Victoria turned around, she was blindsided by Max's fist colliding with her nose.

* * *

 **One week earlier, 3:19 A.M.**

Chloe's head was still spinning as her mind slowly began to latch onto consciousness. Vision blurry, the nineteen-year old struggled to remember where she was, what she was doing. As her senses began to return to her, the bluenette registered the hard, unforgiving sensation of the floor. She was lying on the floor for damn reason. Had she fallen off the bed in the middle of the night? Vision clearing little by little, she began to recognize that this was not her room. Suddenly, a faint clicking sound in the distance bounced into her ears. She knew that sound. It was an old polaroid camera, like her father had owned before he died. But who could have a use for such a thing?

"That's it." The venomous desire in Nathan Prescott's voice made itself known. "I think we're just about done here."

It all came barreling back into Chloe's brain. Frank. The money. The bar. Nathan spiking her drink. Fuck, _Nathan had spiked her drink._ Chloe began to panic, raising her leg and kicking as hard as she could in the general direction of where the rich boy's voice had come from. She had gotten lucky, it seemed, as she felt her foot make contact with _something,_ and a sharp groan that sounded out a moment later, followed by the sound of a body falling to the floor let her know that she had kicked him in the balls. The bluenette forced herself from the floor, making a beeline for the door. Chloe stumbled out into the hallway, still dizzy and only partially conscious, losing her balance and falling to the floor with a thud a moment later. The nineteen-year old allowed herself no time to think. All she knew was that she had to get away.

She picked herself up from the floor, not even looking behind her for Nathan, and began to run. Chloe ran, and ran, and continued to run, her mind completely blank apart from her burning need to escape Nathan Prescott's clutches, paying no attention to where she was actually going. The backgrounds seemed to simply blend together, none of them registering as safe, as far enough away from the boy. Chloe didn't even want to think about what the sick bastard had done while she had been out of it. She couldn't allow herself to do so, not yet. Not until she was far enough away from Nathan.

Chloe lost all meaning of the passage of time, she continued to run for what seemed like an eternity until the burning in her legs and the violent pounding in her chest finally caught up and forced her to stop running. The bluenette leaned forward, resting her hands on her knees, breathing heavier than she ever had. Perhaps this was safe. Maybe she was finally far enough away from Nathan. She put a hand on her forehead, noticing she was drenched in sweat. She stood up straight, making great effort to breather slower and deeper, and was shocked to see that she had run all the way from Blackwell to an old run down gas station on the outskirts of Arcadia Bay. She hadn't even registered where she was going until just this very moment, this was how much the sheer terror had motivated her to move. The bluenette stepped closer to the old store, obviously locked and closed until morning light, and took a seat on an old wooden bench placed next to the door.

At last, Chloe began to look herself over. There was minimal light, as it was still dark outside, the only source of light being a nearby street lamp, but from what she could tell, her clothes were still intact, no unusual tearing or stretching. No part of her felt... wrong, like it had been misused. So Nathan hadn't...

Chloe couldn't hold back any longer. The nineteen-year old burst into tears, bringing her knees up to her chest. At this moment, she was so grateful that there was no one around to see her like this.

* * *

 **One week later**

Max groaned, holding the ice pack to the side of her face. Apparently Victoria Chase wasn't afraid to fight dirty, having left a few deeply slashed claw marks on the punk's face. But the pinknette had undoubtedly won this battle. She took a glance to the seat beside her, unable to stop herself from smirking. Victoria had her nose pinched, no doubt trying to stop the flow of blood that had been caused by Max's blows. The punk shook her head. The bitch shouldn't have messed with her. The fight itself was relatively short, Kate, Warren, and the Vortex henchwomen trying but miserably failing to separate the two warriors from each other. After a few more blows to the face and head, and the introduction of fingernails and hair pulling, they had finally been brought apart by school security. More specifically, David Madsen, _head_ of Blackwell security, as he was so fond of telling people.

Madsen himself stood in the corner of the room, eyeing both of the girls with a fierce glare. He was tall, built like a tank, and clearly none too pleased after having to drag the two girls all the way to the principal's office. Max paid him no mind. Her real concern was the principal himself, who had now entered the room, sitting down at his desk without a word. Principal Ray Wells was an older man, bald head reflecting the sunlight that shone through the window. The look on his face suggested he would have rather been anywhere else, and Max could have sworn she caught a whiff of cheap alcohol as he sat down. _Oh, great,_ the punk thought, giving her eyes a roll. _He's a drinker._

Wells brought his hands together on the desk, and a heavy silence permeated through the room as he eyes the two girls sitting across from him. Max finally separated the ice pack from her face, satisfied the gashes from Victoria's nails were healed enough not to get infected. The principal shook his head, letting out a deep sigh, finally speaking.

"I hope you both realize the seriousness of this altercation."

And so it began. The inevitable twenty minute lecture that Max had been preparing herself for. She was no stranger to the hot seat, being on the receiving end of an authority figure's rant. The pinknette leaned back slightly in her chair, ready to tune out until it was over and go back to her dorm. "Miss Chase," Wells turned to the rich girl. "I must say I'm surprised at you. Four years at Blackwell and this is the first time you've been sent to my office."

 _Wait, what?_ Max immediately snapped to attention. The Vortex queen was infamous for being one of the biggest bullies on campus. How on Earth was this the first time she had been in here?

"I sincerely hope it will be the last." Wells continued. "I would hate for such an exemplary student to have her permanent record tarnished by what I'm sure was an unfortunate misunderstanding."

"Yes, sir." Victoria sighed, clearly fooling the principal into believing she was the victim.

"Hold on, _misunderstanding?"_ Max had heard enough. There was no way this bitch was getting off the hook that easily. "What is there to misunderstand about her getting some bogus story written about me in the paper?"

"That is totally not true!" The Queen Bee spoke in her most deceivingly innocent tone. "I don't even work at the paper!"

"But that didn't stop you from waving it around in my face!"

"That is enough!" Wells' booming voice cut between the girls' squabbling. "Miss Caulfield." The principal turned to Max, his tone much more stern, accusing even. The punk supposed she shouldn't have been surprised. Dana _had_ warned her that the Vortex club ran Blackwell, it only made sense that Wells would be in their pocket, too. "Given that Miss Chase does not indeed work at the Blackwell Totem, I have very littler reason to believe this outrageous claim of yours." The man leaned forward, staring right at Max's indignant soul with a glare that was returned with prejudice. "Furthermore, I don't think you seem to understand just how much trouble you're in."

"So I get punished and she gets nothing but a slap on the wrist?" Max spat, crossing her arms.

"Miss Caulfield, I've decided not to expel you for the time being." Wells raised his voice. "But you are severely testing my patience on this matter."

It was then that the punk reluctantly bit her tongue. She may have been no stranger to trouble with authority, but this was the first time she had been threatened with expulsion. Now was not the time to run her mouth any further.

"Now, Miss Caulfield, we accepted you into Blackwell in spite of your... record." Wells continued, calming down slightly, reaching under his desk to pull out a large folder, undoubtedly Max's permanent record. "Fights, suspensions, disrespecting teachers, vandalism, graffiti, run-ins with law enforcement. The list goes on for some time." The man shook his head. "And yet in spite of this, your academic record is one of the most impressive in recent memory." Wells closed the folder, before standing up from his chair, putting his hands behind his back and giving Max his undivided attention. "I had hoped that perhaps an environment such as Blackwell would have done more to... _discourage_ these episodes of yours. It appears I was wrong."

Max's jaw twitched.

"I'm afraid I have no choice but to suspend you for one week." Wells turned around, facing the window. "Seeing as you have no residence in Arcadia Bay, you may stay in your dorm room, but you are forbidden from attending class or participating in any extracurricular activities." The punk's fists began to clench. If she wasn't on such thin ice, she normally would have no qualms about giving Wells, Victoria, even Madsen a piece of her mind. But the threat of expulsion was real, something she hadn't been prepared for. It wouldn't be worth it to throw everything away just because Chase had the administration in her pocket. Wells turned back to Max. "Do I make myself clear?"

 _Oh, I understand perfectly, dickhead._ Max thought before taking a deep breath. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Then I believe we are done here."


	6. Chapter 6

_**Chapter Six**_

* * *

Chloe's hands were trembling as she opened her front door. The sun had just barely begun coming over the horizon, the cool autumn air nipping at the nineteen-year old's skin as she very slowly stepped into the house, desperate to shut herself away from the outside world. The bluenette was still having trouble processing the events of last night into this morning. Frank's impatience. Nathan's money. Her drink being spiked. And Nathan, that smug fucking perverted bastard doing God knew what to her while she was out. Chloe just felt so fucking _filthy._ Violated. Closing the door behind her, she took notice that no one seemed to be home. _Thank God._ The bluenette collapsed in front of the door, folding her knees to her chest, no tears left in her.

Her mind was unable to focus on anything except Nathan fucking Prescott. The disgustingly satisfied look on his face whenever she had started to pass out. Chloe's face began to contort, her breathing becoming ragged and irregular as she imagined that smug face bloodied and bruised. In that moment, the nineteen-year old felt nothing but sheer, absolute rage. She wanted to kill Nathan Prescott for _whatever_ he had done to her. Chloe sat motionless in front of her door for what seemed like hours, unable to focus her mind on anything except the rich boy, before finally pulling herself up from the floor.

 _No,_ she thought. _No more self pity, Chloe._ She took a deep breath, slowly beginning to ascend the stairs. _You're better than this,_ the nineteen year old's thoughts deafened the inside of her head as she reached the second floor. As much as the bluenette wanted to simply collapse onto her bed and be nothing but a shell for the next eternity, lying around and staring at the ceiling would accomplish nothing. She dragged her feet walking into the bathroom, desperately trying to block out the images in her mind of that fucking scumbag as she clumsily removed her clothes and turned on the shower.

The water was freezing cold, but that barely even registered in Chloe's head. All she wanted at that moment was to not think, for her brain to just shut the fuck up for a few seconds. It wasn't meant to be. Every moment her head was clouded with seething rage towards Nathan, and some desperate need not to feel so dirty. She stood under the bone chilling water for but a few moments before slamming a fist into the shower wall.

 _That slimy prick is going to pay for this._

* * *

 **Two weeks later...**

The blare of bass and electronic beats pounded against Max's eardrums as she took another swig of beer. She had missed this. In Seattle, it was so easy to find a good party, a way to throw a few back and forget the cares of the real world for a night. For almost a month now, it had seemed Arcadia Bay was every bit as dry and dull as it seemed on the surface, but thankfully, she had made friends with two of the most popular girls at Blackwell in Dana and Juliet, the former of whom had a massive house on the outskirts of town and parents who were never home, making for almost weekly ragers being made available to the Blackwell student body. And unlike a Vortex Club party, everyone was welcome. Even Kate, who had stuck dangerously close to Max ever since the two had arrived at Dana's house, and had so far declined any offers of alcohol. It was cute, but Max was determined to break the mild mannered Christian girl out of her shell tonight.

As the two made their way through the living room, weaving in and out of much larger bodies belonging to people who were either drunk or too inconsiderate to move out of their way, the punk spotted out of the corner of her eye her favorite cheerleader in the very center of the room stepping up on to a coffee table.

"Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention?" Dana called out to the crowded living room full of people as she clanged silverware against a beer bottle, commanding the attention of all who had dare ventured to this party, Max included. "I propose a toast." A haughty smirk graced the cheerleader's face as she looked straight across the room at the pinknette, who raised an eyebrow in anticipation. "To one Max Caulfield. Slayer of the Vortex Club, and the savior of Blackwell!" The room promptly shook with the roar of party-goers' approval, red plastic cups raised high in the air, cheering, whooping and a few _hear hears_ sounding out. Word of Max's fight with Victoria had spread across Blackwell like wildfire over the past week, and the student body now seemed to look to Max as their messiah, the only soul in recent memory courageous enough to stand against the Vortex Club. Dana motioned for Max to come over, to which the punk obliged with a gracious smile as the cheerleader helped her on to the table.

The pinknette stepped up next to Dana, who pulled her in close by the shoulder as she was greeted with drunk incoherent applause. Word of her fight with Victoria had spread like wildfire over the past week. The student body of Blackwell was now looking to her as their apparent messiah, the only soul in recent memory courageous enough to stand up to their Vortex Club tormentors. As the applause began to die down, Dana spoke once again to the crowd. "So, my dear Maxine,"

"Max." The punk interrupted the cheerleader. "Never Maxine." How had Dana not learned by now that Max _hated_ hearing her full name?

"Okay, _Max,"_ the taller girl corrected herself. "Do you have anything to say to your adoring public?"

The pinknette shook her head, letting out a small chuckle. "You're too kind, Dana." She answered, the alcohol in her blood loosening her tongue and relaxing her nerves. "I am but a humble servant of the people." She gave a dramatic bow much to the joy of her drunken admirers, rising back up to find Dana handing her another beer. Max didn't even hesitate lifting the bottle to the ceiling in a salute to her fellow partiers, and subsequently downing the entire bottle in a few swallows. She stepped down from the table amid inebriated cheers from her fellows, the burning in her throat flaring up as she came face to face with an amused, but clearly disappointed Kate.

"Sup, Marshtomp?" A semi-drunken Max beamed at her friend before letting out a hiccup.

Kate simply sighed and shook her head, "I think you've had enough to drink, Max."

"What are you talking about?" Max protested in jest. "I'm fine for at least another two or three."

The Christian girl shook her head and gave the punk that knowing smile she had become accustomed to. "Come on, Max." Kate gently grabbed her friend's wrist. "We're leaving."

"But _mooooooom,_ _"_ Max whined, trying to pull away to no avail as Kate tightened her grip. For such a soft spoken girl, Kate was surprisingly strong, able to lead Max against her will through the intricately woven net of drunken bodies that currently littered Dana's living room. They hadn't even made it ten steps before the alcohol in the punk's system finally started to catch up to her and she lost her balance, tripping over her own feet and landing face first in the floor in all her drunken glory.

"Are you okay, Max?" Kate wasted no time kneeling down to help her friend, who was currently content to simply lie on the floor in disgrace. Only a moment ago, she had been the toast of the party, and now here she was a pitiful display of someone who simply didn't know how to hold their alcohol.

Max let out a pitiful groan. "I think I've had enough tor drink, Kate."

The Christian girl simply laughed. "I agree."

The next thing Max knew, she was in the passenger's seat of Kate's car, riding down the road away from Dana's house in silence, the only noise coming from the car radio which was currently playing whatever contemporary gospel CD the Christian girl had thrown in to _give herself strength_ at the party. Max's head felt like it was going to split open. Tomorrow was definitely going to suck. At the very least, tomorrow was Saturday, her suspension still standing until Monday morning, so she had no reason to drag herself out of bed. It took all of the pinknette's strength to turn her head and look over at Kate, who's eyes were focused on the road.

"Kate?"

"Yes, Max?"

A drunken Max began to ramble. "I wasn't trying to pressure you to drink or anything. You know that, right?"

"Of course I do," the Christian girl reassured her friend.

"I just wanted you to come out of your shell a little." The guilt in Max's voice was now making itself prevalent. It was obvious that Kate had been uncomfortable in such a large group of people, especially considering most of them had been completely plastered. "People at school give you a lot of shit for the whole abstinence thing." It was true. Kate ran a number of Bible study groups at Blackwell, many of whom were engaged in an abstinence campaign, trying to spread the word of God and encouraging young students to save sex for marriage, worse than a waste of time with a party school like Blackwell. "I dunno," Max continued, fighting off the urge to pass out mid-conversation. "I just wanted people to see that there's more to you than the Bible stuff."

"Well," Kate laughed, shaking her head as she reached over to turn the radio down. "I appreciate the effort. I guess I just wasn't ready."

"One day, Marsh." Max held up a finger in dramatic fashion. "One day I will successfully turn you into a party animal."

"Good luck with that." The Christian girl replied, still keeping the patience of a saint. "I can't really see myself getting wasted, even with Dana or Juliet."

"You don't need to get wasted to have a good time." The punk said with a smirk, leaning her head back on the seat of the car. "But it does help." She turned to face out the window. "Maybe you just need to try again. I'm sure the Vortex Club will have something going on soon."

Kate simply sighed. "I don't know, Max. I can barely handle one of Dana's get-togethers. I'd probably be like a deer in the headlights at a Vortex Club party."

"You must face your fears, young Skywalker." The pinknette chuckled as her eyes began to get heavy, an inevitable effect of the alcohol in her blood.

"Hmph." It seemed the Christian girl was beginning to get annoyed. "You're one to talk about facing your fears." She cast a scolding look in the punk's direction. "I know for a fact you still haven't gone and seen Chloe yet."

And thus the lighthearted mood had been soured. "Again with this, Kate?" Max pleaded.

"You haven't even had to go to class this week, Max. You've done nothing but sit in your room." Kate lectured as the vehicle pulled off the road and into Blackwell's student parking lot. She turned the ignition off, and the two sat in the parked vehicle in silence for a brief moment before Kate spoke again. "I don't know why you're so hesitant. I mean, I guess I do because of what happened when you left, but-"

"It's because I'm a fucking coward, okay?!" Max cut the Christian girl off, and immediately regretted raising her voice, seeing Kate flinch out of the corner of her eye. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you. I just..." She sighed and leaned her head back against the seat of the car. "Kate, I just don't know if I can face her. I left when she needed me the most, and then I didn't even make any effort to stay in touch." Max turned to face the Christian girl, who had adorned a look of knowing compassion. "I'm a shitty friend."

"Max, you're not a... a... crappy friend." Kate put her hand on Max's shoulder as the punk let off a small laugh. She didn't even curse. It was adorable. "You had no choice but to move on with your own life. I'm sure Chloe will understand."

Max responded with only silence? _Would_ Chloe understand? The punk had practiced the initial conversation thousands of times in her head by this point, hoping to prepare for the absolute worst case scenario. But then, she couldn't predict the future. She had no idea what would happen when she finally stopped dragging her damn feet and went to see her friend. _Hmph,_ she thought, _I don't know if she'd even still consider me her friend._

Kate shook Max's shoulder, and when the pinknette turned back to face her, the Christian girl was wearing an oddly out of character mischievous grin. "Tell you what," she began, "I'll let you take me to the next Vortex Club party if you go and see her tomorrow."

Max laughed and shook her head. Perhaps there was hope for mild mannered Kate Marsh to become a menace to society after all. "I think you've got a deal, Marsh."

* * *

 **The next morning...**

Chloe struggled to keep her eyes open as she typed away at her computer, fingers numb from countless hours of research and snooping. She was determined to find something, anything at all on Nathan Prescott or his family that she could use as leverage against him. That freak had the audacity to put his hands on her, and the bluenette was determined to make him pay for it. Or at least she had been, until she had googled her way into oblivion for several hours and come up with the sum total of jack shit. How was there nothing on the internet she could use? The Prescotts were a powerful family, but someone like Nathan _had_ to have some sort of record. He was unstable, to put it mildly. Chloe had never really interacted with him the short time she was enrolled at Blackwell, but she had heard stories. Violent outbursts, drug problems, threatening teachers. And yet _she_ had been the one who was expelled over a simple joint. It was complete bullshit.

Chloe let out a sigh of frustration as she leaned back in her chair. She shook her head, reaching onto the desk for a drag off her cigarette. Nothing. Not a single incriminating thing on Nathan Prescott that her meager detective skills could find. Clearly the right amount of money could buy or silence anyone. The bluenette's options were dwindling. Nathan was the only real way of her scrounging up enough cash to get Frank off her back.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket. _Speaking of Frank,_ she thought, hesitant to even check the message. It was Frank, it had to be. No one else even bothered to interact with her besides her mom and step-shit. The phone vibrated again, and against her better judgement, pulled the device out of her pocket. To no surprise, it was the creepy dealer himself.

 **F: Chloe. I'm out of patience [9:42 A.M.]**

 **F: Give me my money [9:43 A.M.]**

 _God damn it,_ Chloe rested her head in her hands. _What the fuck am I supposed to do now?_ It was over. Frank was done waiting for the rest of his dough, and she had nothing to give him. She knew that the dealer was dangerous, that he would eventually come looking for her. She couldn't let it come to that, as one of two things would happen. Either Frank would gut her with that fucking knife of his, or he would come to her house and David would kill him. Chloe's eyes widened. Maybe this was the perfect way to buy her more time. She frantically typed away at her phone, hoping to placate Frank.

 **C: What do you want from me? I can't do it all at once [9:43 A.M.]**

 **C: I'll have more for you on Friday [9:43 A.M.]**

Chloe waited for Frank's response, hoping like hell that he wouldn't do anything rash. As much as she loathed to admit it, he scared the shit out of her. Now that Rachel was no longer a factor, she was content to never see him again. Her phone vibrated once more.

 **F: Nope. I want ALL of it [9:45 A.M.]**

 **F: Do I need to pay you a visit? [9:46 A.M.]**

 _Fucking damn it,_ Chloe thought. She was going to have to threaten him with David.

 **C: Dude. My stepdad is a fucking Iraq vet with major PTSD and an unhealthy obsession with guns [9:47 A.M.]**

 **C: You come here, he'll LITERALLY kill you [9:47 A.M.]**

 **C: And no, that's not a threat. It's just reality [9:48 A.M.]**

 **C: This is the only way I can pay you back. [9:49 A.M.]**

Chloe bit her lip, her hands beginning to tremble as she hoped like hell that Frank would back off. If he tried anything, like coming to her house or the diner, it was going to be trouble, and not the kind of trouble that she could talk her way out of. A few minutes passed with no response, and a few beads of sweat began to roll down the bluenette's forehead. She knew Frank well enough to know that silence was bad. Silence meant that he was already on his way here in that beat down RV of his. Or so Chloe thought until her phone vibrated yet again.

 **F: Fine [9:53 A.M.]**

 **F: You better have a lot for me Friday [9:53 A.M.]**

Chloe let out a sigh of relief, leaning back in her chair. Frank had been satisfied, or at least intimidated by the thought of tangling with David. That was one less problem she had to deal with, now all that was left was to find something on Nathan, and then track down Rachel, wherever she was. Chloe looked down next to her desk, to the box filled to the brim with missing person posters that had Rachel's face on them. She had spent the better part of two months plastering them all over town wherever she could, but so far had come up with absolutely nothing. It was like no one cared that this girl had gone missing. It felt hopeless. Chloe wanted more than anything to believe that Rachel was okay, living it up in Long Beach or somewhere else. But there was so much doubt, so much screaming at her that something had happened to Rachel.

A knock at Chloe's bedroom door made her jump as it ripped her away from her thoughts. "Chloe?" She heard Joyce's voice from the other side. "Are you up?"

The bluenette sighed, putting out her cigarette. "Yes, mother."

"We both have lunch shift today." _Shit,_ Chloe thought. Work was the last thing she needed to think about right now. "We gotta take your truck."

The bluenette sighed, standing up from her chair. At the very least, a few hours of hell at the Two Whales would take her mind off Rachel. Or Nathan. Or even Frank. She reached for the apron on her bed, groaning as she made her way for the door.

 _Adulthood waits for no one._

* * *

 **A few hours later...**

Max's heart was racing as she stepped off the bus. This was it, no more excuses, no turning back. The Two Whales diner looked identical to how it had five years ago, albeit with a bit more rust on the outside walls. A good sign, but still not enough to put the punk's nerves at ease. She could have easily gone to Chloe's house, but the apprehension of facing her old friend had proved too much. So she decided to do something else. She would go talk to Joyce first, the woman she had considered to be a second mother to her all those years ago. She knew that Chloe's mom would be happy to see her, and could give her something of a read before she actually went to face Chloe herself.

The punk sighed. She was so tired of going back and forth in her head, worrying about every tiny, minuscule thing that could go wrong. A cold burst of wind blew by, forcing the punk to zip up the tattered _Rob Zombie_ hoodie she was wearing as she ascended the steps to the diner's door. It was now or never.

As soon as Max stepped through the door, the familiar scent of the Two Whales engulfed her in a state of nostalgic euphoria. Amazing food, and better memories with her best friend. They had once been the scourge of the Two Whales once upon a time, running around as young kids playing pirates, getting on the nerves of the diner's patrons, and subsequently being defended by Joyce. They were good times, and it only made Max feel even more guilty for leaving them without a word.

The old 50's style diner was packed, the lunch rush currently being in full swing. The pinknette considered leaving, but took notice of none other than Joyce herself behind the counter, working like a whirlwind as only she could. As much as it should have made her even more nervous, the sight of Joyce did just a bit to set the tension in Max's stomach at ease. There was an empty seat at the end of the bar, which the punk wasted no time in taking. She waited patiently for the older woman to come to her, basking in the nostalgia. The smell of food, the awful country music being played on the jukebox, the impatient truckers complaining and subsequently getting slapped down by Joyce. The memories came flooding back to Max all at once, but there was no time to revel in them, as Joyce had finally made her way to the end of the bar, pen and paper in hand.

"What can I get you, hon?" Joyce said in her _customer service_ voice. Max's stomach sank, but she couldn't really blame the older woman. She was quite different than the quirky, quiet girl that had been her second daughter five years ago.

"Joyce?" Max questioned, hoping that she would recognize her.

"I'm sorry," Joyce said as she took a closer look at the punk. "Do I know you? You look familiar."

The punk only smirked in response. "Give it a minute, Joyce. It'll come to you."

A few moments passed, and the older woman's eyes grew wide with realizations. "Max!" Joyce didn't hesitate to reach over the counter and pull the young punk into a hug. It felt nice to actually be remembered for once. "Goodness, darlin', I am so sorry." The older woman wasted little time jumping into apologies as the gesture was broken. "I hardly recognized you."

"I know." Max chuckled. "I do look a lot different now."

"That you do." Joyce shook her head as she gave the pinknette a once over. What a sight Max must have been after five years. "Although it does make me feel a little better that Chloe wasn't the only one who went through the whole _dyeing her hair_ phase."

 _Chloe dyed her hair too, huh?_ Max thought as a smile came across her face. _Interesting._ "So," she began to speak again, trying to choose her words carefully. "How is she? I wanted to come see her as soon as I got here, but... uh..."

Joyce sighed. "Yeah." The older woman shook her head. "She didn't exactly give you the warmest send-off." She looked over her shoulder, before leaning down on the counter. "The last few years have been rough on her, Max." She began to speak much more quietly to the punk. "I don't think she ever really got over William dying."

And so the guilt came rushing back as Max hung her head in shame. "Joyce," she started, pausing for a moment to gather the right words. "I am so sorry about William. I can't imagine what you and Chloe went through."

Joyce simply nodded. "It was hard. He was the love of my life, the father of my child." The older woman closed her eyes and took a deep breath, as though trying to suppress whatever painful memories may have been trying to rear their ugly heads. "But he loved us. And he would have wanted us to move on and be happy." She held up her hand to Max's face, and the punk was shocked to see a diamond ring gracing the older woman's finger. "So that's what I did. But Chloe chose to stay angry."

"Wowser," the only word Max could muster as she took in the sight of Joyce's ring. She had actually remarried. The punk wasn't sure whether she should congratulate her or vomit. Although doing both wasn't entirely out of the question. "I should go see Chloe," she said before taking a deep breath. "I just don't know if she'd want to even speak to me."

Joyce smirked. "Here, let me help with that."

Before Max could even question what the older woman was doing, she had made her way to the kitchen window. "Chloe!" Joyce shouted. "Go ahead and take your thirty. There's someone here who wants to see you."

Max's heart began to race almost instantaneously. Chloe was here? Now?! And most terrifying of all, she actually had a _job?!_ The punk briefly considered turning around and running out the door to avoid the inevitable confrontation a bit longer, but it was too late. The kitchen door opened, and Max's jaw dropped as she got her first glimpse in five years of her best friend.

Chloe was fucking gorgeous. Puberty had done her the biggest of favors that Max had ever seen, giving her a face worthy of a supermodel and a figure to match. And seeing her clad in a Two Whales uniform with a skirt coming just slightly above her knees. And the blue hair was simply the icing on the cake. The punk shook her head to snap herself out of the trance she had been put in. She didn't need to be caught drooling over someone she hadn't seen in five years. Time seemed to move in slow motion as Chloe closed the door behind her, and Max's blood ran cold as the bluenette directed her gaze to the end of the bar, and the two locked eyes for the first time in five years.

* * *

It took Chloe a moment to realize exactly who she was looking at. Some cute punk chick at the end of the bar apparently wanted to talk to her. As the bluenette walked, she gave the girl a look, trying to figure out what she wanted with her. The neon pink hair, nose ring, and tattered hoodie had already made her stick out from the rest of the diner's patrons, she was sure none of the truckers wanted anything to do with her. But the girl looked right at her, as though they knew each other, and as she finally got a good look at the pink haired girl's face, the realization hit her like a truck to the stomach.

"Max?" She stuttered as she finally reached the end of the bar. Five years had changed her friend so much, Chloe was having a hard time taking in the sight.

Max simply nodded her head, giving off a sheepish grin. "Hey,"

"Hey..."


	7. Chapter 7

_**Chapter Seven**_

* * *

Nearly a full one hundred and twenty seconds had passed since Max and Chloe had taken a booth in the corner of the Two Whales, their own unofficially reserved spot for years prior. And in those hundred and twenty seconds, not a single word had been uttered. It was every bit as terrifyingly awkward as Max had feared. She opened her mouth to say something, but the words quickly escaped her, and she simply let out a sigh. What could she say? _Hey Chloe, sorry I didn't contact you for five years after your fucking father died. Can we be best friends again?_ It made her stomach turn, but at the very least it seemed Chloe was having just as much trouble with words as she was. Five years had changed the both of them so much, they were nearly unrecognizable from their thirteen and fourteen year old selves. The blue hair was quite shocking, as Chloe had always been fond of her natural blonde locks. Even more surprising was the fact that she was wearing _glasses._ Something she had always referred as being _for nerds._ Max was simply at a loss for words, until Chloe finally broke the silence with a single word.

"So..."

As soon as the bluenette began to speak, Max couldn't help but let a playful smirk grow across her face. All it had taken was one word to melt away the punk's fear and insecurities. "You've changed, Caulfield," Chloe continued with a quiet laugh.

"So have you." Max replied without thinking. "But the new look works for you." It was as though no time had passed at all. Talking to Chloe felt just as easy, just as natural as it had before everything went to shit. Max couldn't help but feel relieved, it seemed her best friend wasn't holding any grudges.

Chloe rolled her eyes. "No _look_ to be found here. High fashion didn't really capture my interest anymore after..." The bluenette stopped short, and Max lowered her head in shame. They both knew exactly what Chloe was talking about. William. There was another silence as the two struggled to delay the inevitable. Max knew she was going to have to talk about this to Chloe sooner or later, and despite finally breaking the ice, she was still dreading it just as much as she had been in the past months. "So, uh..." Chloe stammered, desperate to steer the conversation elsewhere. "What are you doing back in town?"

"I'm going to Blackwell, actually." Max raised her head back up to face her friend. "Got accepted into the photography program."

"Still taking pictures, huh?" The bluenette smirked.

"Well, duh." The punk smiled back.

"Guess some things never change." Chloe paused for a second, staring right at her friend as though trying to get a read on her. She had never expected to see Max again, much less see her decked out in band merch with piercings and neon pink hair. It was a sight to behold, a far cry from the shy, quirky girl she had known five years ago. "So how was Seattle?"

"Meh." Max leaned back in her seat, sticking her hands into the pockets of her hoodie. "It was okay. I had some fun, made some friends. But I got into a lot of trouble there."

"Jesus." Chloe was genuinely shocked. "You really have changed. What kind of trouble?"

"Where to start," The punk chuckled as she turned her head to look out the window. "First off, I got in a _lot_ of fights. Not all of them at school, either. I... _might_ have an assault charge on my record." A guilty, sheepish grin began to form on Max's face as she made an exaggerated shrug of her shoulders.

The bluenette's jaw dropped. There was absolutely no way she was hearing this correctly, did Max actually have a criminal record? On one hand, it was exciting to see how much of a badass her friend had become, but also legitimately scary. Rachel had been a wild soul, often dragging Chloe into situations that they shouldn't have been in, but she had never been arrested. Of course, now that it was out in the open, the bluenette's curiosity only began to grow. "How the hell did they let you into Blackwell with a record? Normally that place is strict as fuck."

"It didn't happen until after I got accepted." The pinknette shook her head. "Thank Dog for that, otherwise I'd still be in Seattle." There was a short silence as Max realized that the conversation had been entirely about her up until now. "So what about you? What's Captain Chloe been up to?"

"Not shit." Chloe grumbled, crossing her arms and looking down at the table. "Mom got married again."

"Yeah, she showed me the ring." Max said quietly. "I guess you're not a big fan of the stepdad."

"Nope." The bluenette shook her head, raising it slightly to meet the punk's gaze. "He's a fucking asshole. Hella paranoid, thinks he's still gathering surveillance in Iraq or something."

"Jesus."

"You've probably seen him around, actually. He's a security guard at Blackwell."

Max's stomach lurched. There was absolutely no mistaking who Chloe was talking about. "Wait a minute," she began, hoping like hell that she and her friend weren't thinking of the same person. "Your stepdad is David Madsen?" The bluenette simply nodded in return. "Holy shit, dude. I am so sorry." The punk leaned forward, putting her hands onto the table once more. "I knew he was an asshole at school, but you have to _live_ with him."

"Yep." Chloe smirked with a distinct trace of venom. "I guess you've met him?"

"Only once. He..." Max bit her lip. "He had to break up a fight between me and this one bitch who goes to Blackwell." She sighed, giving her head a shake. "The whole time he was dragging us to the principal's office, he kept ranting about entitled teenagers and not respecting authority."

"That's definitely him." The bluenette spat at the mere thought of her stepfather. "Dickhead thinks he's so above everyone else just because he went to fucking war." Another short silence ensued as Chloe continued to seethe, which gave Max a bit of pause. There was a great deal of deep-seated animosity towards her stepfather, and the punk couldn't help but think of the bluenette's real father. His death had changed her best friend, and now more than ever was the guilt truly beginning to seat itself in her mind. Before Max could say anything, however, Chloe spoke again. "So who was the bitch?"

"Huh?"

"The bitch who goes to Blackwell." Chloe gave a half-smile. "I wanna know who's ass you kicked."

Max smiled and shook her head. "Her name's Victoria Chase."

The bluenette's eyes opened wide. "You're joking."

"Nope. She had it coming."

Chloe laid her upper body on the table, as though she were bowing, a dramatic show that caused Max to raise an eyebrow. "I hereby pledge allegiance to Max and the power for which she stands." The punk let out a laugh. "Seriously, dude. You are officially my hero. That bitch needed to be knocked down for a long time."

The punk couldn't help but laugh at her friend's dramatic display of admiration. "You know her?"

"Yeah." Chloe deadpanned as she leaned back in her seat. "She gave me a lot of trouble the short time I went to Blackhell."

"I was gonna ask," Max put her hands in the pockets of her jacket as she took a more serious tone. "Why aren't you at Blackwell now? We were in the same grade when I left."

"Right," The bluenette stammered, putting a hand on the back of her neck, a sheepish look growing on her face. "I... kinda got expelled."

It was now Max's turn for her jaw to drop and her eyes to widen. _"You_ got expelled?" The bluenette simply nodded her head. Max was truly shocked. The Chloe she remembered may have had a wild side and a pension for mischief, but she had never gotten herself into any serious trouble. The more conversation went on, the more the two began to realize just how different they had become. "What for?"

Chloe sighed. "Got caught smoking in the bathroom."

"Seriously?" Max deadpanned.

"Yep. First offense, too." The bluenette grumbled. "But I wasn't a Vortex groupie, so Wells booted me out. No warning, nothing."

"That's fucking bullshit."

"That's Blackwell for you." Chloe turned to look out the window. "Step-douche was unbearable after that. He was always an asshole to me, but after I got kicked out..." The bluenette closed her eyes and took a deep, slow, audible breath. Max's stomach lurched. It wasn't until just now that she truly realized how hard the years had been on her friend. And every bit of guilt and regret that she had felt for staying silent, for not even trying to reach out to Chloe for the past five years came barreling back into her mind at full force. As much as Kate had tried to convince her that she wasn't a bad friend, the punk had her doubts. But either way, she was here for a reason, and now seemed as good a time as any to get this over with.

"So, Chloe..." Max began, stammering slightly as she unwillingly let on how nervous she was. "About last time..."

Chloe turned back to stare at Max. "Dude, really?" She said, sounding agitated. "You want to do this now? We _just_ got back together."

"We're gonna have to do it eventually." Max shrugged her shoulders. "I figured it would be better to just get it out of the way now."

"Why?" The bluenette groaned, leaning back in her seat and crossing her arms. "I was actually enjoying catching up with you, dude. Why'd you have to ruin it?"

A dull thud in Max's chest, likely her heart skipping a beat and not in the good way, forced her to sink down into her chair. "I'm not trying to ruin anything." She pleaded with her friend, a strange parallel of the last time they had spoken beginning to form. "But we do need to talk about last time, Chloe."

Chloe simply groaned, crossing her arms and leaning back into her seat. A short silence followed, lasting only a few moments but feeling like an eternity as Max's stomach continued to churn with feelings of guilt, anxiety, and uncertainty. She felt like an idiot, her first interaction with her best friend in years had been going so great, and she just had to fuck it up by bringing up the past. Did Chloe even care about what had happened the last time? She had seemed happy to see Max, but perhaps she was still angry somewhere deep inside? And if not, had Max just ruined her one opportunity to get her best friend back? The pinknette felt a sharp thump in her chest as Chloe turned back to her. "What time is it?"

"Uh..." Max scrambled, reaching into her pocket for her phone. "Almost two."

"Shit," The bluenette growled. "My break's almost over."

At this, the punk couldn't help but let out a small giggle. "Sorry, it's just weird seeing you with a job."

Chloe simply rolled her eyes. "Not by choice, trust me." She let a slight smirk escape her mouth as she turned aside to stand up from the booth. "Listen, I get off at five thirty. You wanna come to the house around six?"

Max beamed. "Love to."

"Cool." The bluenette nodded her head. "Mom's working a double tonight, and step douche is probably gonna be either at Blackhell doing paperwork or the gun range. I don't think we'll be bothered."

Max slid out and stood up from the booth, a more serious grin adorning her face. "Sounds like a plan."

"So, uh..." Chloe bit her lip, an obvious sense of anxiety being given off. "It's probably gonna get kinda heavy later, so... I..." She put a hand on the back of her neck once more as another short silence ensued. "It was good seeing you again, Max."

"You say that like I'm leaving again." The punk said softly, the smile on her face replaced with a concerned stare.

"Are you?"

Max instinctively stepped forward and forced the taller girl into a hug, a gesture Chloe was only too happy to return.

"I'm not going anywhere, Price."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

* * *

"Welcome to my office," Chloe casually quipped as the two made their way into her room. "The place looks different than last time you were here, I know." Max instinctively closed the door behind them and took a gawk at her friend's rearranged living space as Chloe carelessly plopped down on her bed. She was right, this room looked incredibly different from the last time Max had set foot in it. The once blank walls had become canvas to gratuitous amounts of graffiti, some odd abstract designs, others spouting such odd street wisdom as _Think like a man,_ or _Everyone lies. No exceptions._ On the small section of wall next to the door were a mountain of posters displaying several obscure indie hipster bands that Max had never heard of. Given the change in scenery from five years prior, there was only one thought on the pinknette's mind.

 _Oh my Dog, she is so gay._

Max let out a short chuckle. "You've been busy, Price."

Chloe simply smirked in return. "Had to keep myself busy while you were gone." She reached down underneath her bed, fumbling her hand for a moment before it resurfaced with a plastic bag filled with a familiar green substance. One of Chloe's many vices, she reached her other hand into her pocket for her lighter, eager to smoke away the troubles of a long day at work, when she caught a glimpse of Max, arms crossed giving her an odd look. "What?"

Max raised an eyebrow. "Chloe, I _know_ you're not about to keep all of that for yourself."

The bluenette's eyes widened. "You _smoke?"_ She let out a laugh, floored by her friend's dramatic transformation. "Jesus, Caulfield, you really have changed." Chloe's mind was spinning. Five years had clearly done more to change Max than she had realized at first. The thirteen year old version of her best friend wouldn't have even considered touching marijuana, but then again, the same could be said for Chloe at that age. Time truly was a curious force. "You mind putting on some music? Seems to help me whenever I... uh... _medicate."_

"Gladly," Max responded, making a beeline for the corner of the room, which still after five years contained a nearly empty bookshelf with a hi-fi stereo sitting on top of it. "Whatcha got for our listening pleasure?"

"Actually," Chloe said, separating a generous amount of weed from the bag, "It's somewhere behind those books, but I think I still have that mix you made me when we were twelve."

The punk turned around, looking at her friend in disbelief. "You still have that?"

"I think so," Chloe shrugged. "Matter of fact, I think that's where my wraps are too. Just pick any one of those."

Max shoved the row of books aside, and couldn't help but genuinely smile at the old burned CD, featuring crude drawings of a younger Max and Chloe decked out in pirate gear, with the words _PIRATE POWER_ written across the surface. So many memories had gone into this simple piece of plastic. It made the punk both nostalgic for that time five years earlier, where she and her best friend didn't have a care in the world, and also guilty for not attempting to rekindle her friendship when she had the chance. Max sighed. But then, that was the whole reason she was here now. To make up for the past, to heal, to reconnect.

Max blew some of the dust off the case, inserting the disc into the stereo, before grabbing a random pack of wraps and pulling up Chloe's old computer chair and taking a seat across from her. In truth, Max was a little excited. In her experience, two people smoking weed together was very much a bonding experience, a way for them to truly get to know one another without the borders and filters that a sober mind put up. But with Chloe, someone she was already very much familiar with, it was simply another way for the two to reconnect.

"Here, I'll roll it." Chloe said, reaching for the wraps. "I insist. You're the guest, after all."

"Fine with me." Max chuckled. "I suck at rolling anyway."

The bluenette only smiled in response, and at long last the stereo began to play the inserted CD, humming off electronic melodies and synthetic percussion which signaled the beginning of thirteen year old Max's favorite song, _Leave Out All The Rest_ by Linkin Park.

"Jesus," the punk chuckled, eagerly awaiting her first hit from the nearly finished blunt. "I haven't heard this song in forever."

"Yeah," Chloe shook her head in response. "You were kind of obsessed with it for a while."

"Don't remind me."

At last Chloe was finished rolling, holding in her hand what looked to be a sizable blunt in her hand, sure to contain a few hours of enjoyment for the two friends. She flicked the lighter and took a long, slow drag from the blunt, holding her breath in as long as she could before passing it to Max, who promptly did the same. After a few moments, the two let out large clouds of smoke from their mouths in unison, noticeably more content with the world than minutes prior, as the music played on in the background.

 _"I dreamed I was missing. You were so scared. But no one would listen. 'Cause no one else cared."_

This was nice. Max was going to have to make it a point to have Chloe introduce her to her dealer, because this was some good shit. The two passed the blunt back and forth a few more times, a few short fits of coughing ensued, and for a short moment, it seemed like there were no troubles at all in the world. Just two best friends rekindling their friendship through a mutual love of not being sober.

 _"After my dreaming, I woke with this fear. What am I leaving when I'm done here?"_

And yet, after a few seconds of no talking, no sound at all apart from the music being played from the stereo, a certain unease fell over the room. Both the girls sensed that it was time. Max took a deep breath, for a split second considering walking all the way back to Seattle from Chloe's house, but remained in the chair. "So..." was all the pinknette said. _Nice one, Max,_ she thought sarcastically to herself. _What a great conversationalist you are._

"So..." Chloe returned, clearly at as much of a loss for words as her friend.

There was another short lack of dialogue between the two, before Max simply decided to bite the bullet. "Look, I know this is awkward as shit, but..." she paused for a moment to cough, a bit of residual smoke escaping from her lungs. "I know you have a lot you want to get off your chest." The punk leaned back in the chair, spreading her arms wide. "Go ahead. Let me have it. Nothing held back."

Chloe was taken aback by Max's sudden outburst of confidence, but nodded in response, taking one final drag before putting out the blunt.

 _"So if you're asking me I want you to know..."_

"Five years, Caulfield." Chloe began, leaning forward and resting her hands on her legs. "You went five fucking years without a call, or a text, or even a fucking facebook message."

Max simply hung her head in shame. "I know."

"Not to mention you fucked off without a word right after my dad died!" The bluenette began to raise her voice.

"Hey," The punk cut off her friend. She was fine with Chloe venting her frustrations, but wasn't willing to take the blame for everything. "I tried to come say goodbye before I left. You slammed the door in my face and told me you never wanted to see me again. That doesn't exactly leave a lot of room for interpretation."

 _"When my time comes, forget the wrong that I've done. Help me leave behind some reasons to be missed."_

"So what?" Chloe continued. "You didn't talk to me for five years because of something I said when I was grieving?" Her voice cracked slightly, but Chloe kept on. "When I was, fuck I don't know, emotional? Angry?"

"Well... at first, yeah." Max straightened up in her chair, her tongue loosened a bit by the weed. "Jesus, Chloe, I was thirteen. At the time, I thought you really did mean it when you said you didn't want to see me again."

"So what about after that?"

The pinknette sighed. "After that, I figured you just needed some time to cool off. To... you know, grieve."

 _"And don't resent me. And when you're feeling empty, keep me in your memory. Leave out all the rest, leave out all the rest."_

"Then I started school in Seattle, and that... God, that fucking place." Max shook her head. Memories of older children tormenting her to the point of madness filled the pinknette's brain. "When we first moved there, I got bullied. Like, a lot," she continued, shifting her position in the chair slightly. "It was affecting my grades, my life at home, everything. So yeah, I still missed you like crazy, but I had my own problems to deal with."

Chloe's eyebrows furrowed. "Your own problems, huh?" she asked sarcastically.

"I mean, I'm not gonna pretend they were equal to yours," Max said with a twinge of guilt. "But yeah, I did have my own problems that I had to deal with." She sighed. "And before I knew it, a fucking year had passed."

 _"Don't be afraid. I've taken my beating. I've shared what I've made."_

Max felt a lump in her throat beginning to form. _Not now,_ she thought to herself. _Please, for the love of Dog, don't make me start crying._ "So by that point, I figured you probably just hated my guts and wouldn't want to talk to me."

Chloe didn't speak for a few moments, a short silence that terrified Max beyond belief. "Max..." Chloe began, her voice in a much softer tone than before. "Of course I wanted to talk to you. Jesus, dude, I was going crazy without you here."

"Really?"

"Yeah," The bluenette took another quick hit from the blunt, followed by a few coughs. "I missed you too, you know."

 _"I'm strong on the surface. Not all the way through. I've never been perfect. But neither have you."_

"I actually... uh, shit," Chloe stammered before shaking her head and reaching down below her bed once more. Max raised an eyebrow as her friend's hand fumbled for a moment, before coming back into view with a hand full of envelopes. "This is... really awkward... and a little stupid, but..." she took a moment to straighten the stack before handing it to Max. "I used to write you letters. I just never had the balls to send them."

The punk was floored, hesitating a bit before accepting the stack of unsent letters. She flipped through them for a moment, each of them simply labeled, "Max," with no address. "I... don't know what to say."

"I mean, you don't have to say anything." Chloe bit her lip, for the first time showing a hint of nervousness. "Just... maybe wait until I'm not around to read those. They're kind of cringe worthy."

 _"So if you're asking me, I want you to know..."_

There was a lengthy silence between the two girls as Max struggled to process what Chloe had just told her. She written letters. A _lot_ of letters, from the looks of it, with no real intention to send them, as indicated by the lack of an address on the envelopes. The punk wasn't sure what to think, or more importantly, what to feel. Much of the guilt she had been riddled with had begun to subside after the conversation started. A bit stupid for worrying so much, maybe? But above all, Max felt relieved. Chloe had evidently missed her just as much as the punk had. She didn't hate Max's guts. They had both just been too stubborn and cowardly to reach out to one another. She let out a sniffle, a single tear escaping from her eye as she jumped up from the chair and forced her friend into a hug, which was returned without hesitation.

 _"When my time comes, forget the wrong that I've done. Help me leave behind some reasons to be missed."_

"Chloe," Max stuttered out, finally starting to choke up. "I'm so sorry I didn't reach out to you."

The blunette squeezed tighter. "So am I."

Another long silence ensued, the two attempting to hug out all their built up anguish from the five years prior, tears staining shoulders, short gasps of air emitting from their mouths until slowly, the flow of tears began to slow. Their breathing became steadier and the two finally separated.

 _"And don't resent me. And when you're feeling empty, keep me in your memory. Leave out all the rest."_

"So, uh..." Max said nervously, scratching the back of her head. "Are we... cool?"

Chloe said nothing for a moment, which terrified the pinknette beyond belief, but the silence soon gave way to a soft, genuine smile from the older girl. "Yeah," she said with a quick nod. "I think we are."

* * *

 **A/N: I apologize for the long silence. Adult life is pretty hectic, as I'm sure many of us know.**

 **Before I go, I would just like to say that this chapter is dedicated to the memory of one Chester Bennington, who many of you may know as the singer for the band Linkin Park, who tragically took his own life earlier this month.**

 **His voice was the first that ever truly touched my soul, made me feel something. Without Chester and the rest of Linkin Park, it's unlikely I would play guitar today or have as much of a sense for music as I do. The world is undoubtedly a sadder place without his** **presence. I can only hope that in death, he has found the peace of mind that he could not find in life.**

 **If someone you know is struggling with depression or other mental health issues, I implore you, please reach out to them. Sometimes a simple gesture to let them know that someone cares could mean the difference between life and death.**

 **Godspeed.**


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